


Misdeeds

by Bunnyhops



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Canonical Character Death, Multi, Multiple Relationships, Sex, Suicide Attempt, marriage law
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-09-07 08:53:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8791339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnyhops/pseuds/Bunnyhops
Summary: Before the war, Hermione is a courageous Muggleborn.  After the war, Hermione is a half-blood witch, who is ordered to marry three pureblood wizards in order to, once again, save the wizarding world from fading into extinction.





	1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

 

The applause was deafening. Hermione wanted to stand up and walk off the dais, with her hands cupped over her ears, and out of the public eye. It had been just short of two years since the last battle, and she still didn’t like large crowds or loud noises.

All the memories, all the loss; it all still seemed like it happened yesterday.

Presently, the small group of survivors-come-war heroes had been sitting, listening to speeches for over an hour so far. They had received medals for bravery and accolades for quick thinking. Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville had been offered land titles, and the Ministry had forgiven the debt owed to Gringotts for damages to the infrastructure, freeing a dragon, and other assessed damage to various private homes and neighborhoods. Each of the other Weasley’s were offered a vault with a small lump sum of gold. However, Severus was the man of the hour, considering everything that was discovered after the war. He was given property, a royal title, awarded a yearly stipend, and he was made an offer of employment at any Ministry organization, to include work at St. Mungos.

Hermione looked over to Snape. He was seated two chairs from her, wearing a more-sour-than-usual expression. She’d been the one to save him that fateful night. It was pure luck that she’d had reserves of herbs, potions and healing salves in her beaded bag. Ronald had grabbed Harry’s arm after the three had watched, horrified by Voldemort’s betrayal of their Potion’s Professor, Nagini slither away.

The tears, the memories, the knowledge that he was one of the good guys; it had been overwhelming and it also spurred Hermione into action. She’d yelled for Harry and Ron to run back, that she would follow shortly. She had shoved Bezoar and antivenin down Snape’s throat, cast a Stasis on his neck to stem the blood flow then performed an osmosis charm for blood replenishment potion. It was a hectic moment, but he had coughed and sputtered his way back to life right as she slapped a port key in the palm of his hand. It whisked him away to St. Mungos.

Just then, she was jolted back to the present. Hermione registered that Snape’s jaw moved and his eyes cut to the corner. She’d been caught staring. Severus turned his head to face her, shifted his eyes to the crowd in front of them and quirked an eyebrow. It was done in humor and she was moderately successful at keeping in the snort that followed. She covered the sound with a clearing of her throat and an apology when Harry and Kingsley looked at her.

Taking a deep breath, her eyes drifted to where Ron was sitting. They now only interacted as if they had been adversaries in school; former enemies come allies. She supposed that wasn’t far off. They had had trouble communicating early on in their relationship, and with his emotional range, her high intellect and constant need to impart knowledge on people; they mixed as well as oil and water.   Plus there was his current state… Hermione felt some amount of sympathy for him.

She began to run through the events of the last several months of her life on the run. Her mind drifted to one point; it was the final straw for her in regards to Ron.

**_**A memory…_ **

Her nail beds were blue and the tip of her nose was numb. She turned her head slightly when she heard Ron mutter, “Bugger!”

“Language, Ron,” she calmly reminded. The wind carried her voice, and he stretched his lips. “I am cold, wet, hungry and we are lost. I will use any language I want,” he hissed.

He wasn’t yelling; his voice was snide and dismissive.

Hermione thought he was acting like a cad. She thought they could, at the very least, retain a modicum of civility towards each other during this rather trying time.

He disagreed.

They were both standing on high ground and looking over the landscape of forestry. Harry was sitting in the tent, brooding as per the usual.

Ron shook his hands as if that would rush the blood to his extremities and warm them. The action did not do anything but cause pain.

Sighing, Hermione looked him over. He had thinned out, mostly due to lack of food and continuous walking, but it didn’t suit him. His clothing was tattered and dirty, his face ruddy and his hair thinning. She felt herself get angry at his mere presence, but took another calming breath before she hexed him… again. She looked down at herself. She was also thin, but her clothes were not dirty. They were patched up in several places both by Muggle and magical means, and her hair was kept neat and dry in a tight braid.

Her mother had always said that it was when you felt the worst about someone that you should practice the best of yourself. So that is what she did.

She cast a warming charm over him.

“I don’t need your pity,” Ron spit out, though he had stopped shaking with the cold. She was tempted to also cast a _Tergeo_ to clean him up a bit, too, but she wasn’t in the mood to engage in an all-out row.

He was the reason they were here, lost. He’d come back and convinced Harry that they needed to seek out some oracle, a seer in the Highlands. Somewhere along the way, they had crossed a magical barrier. Hermione speculated that it was a ley line. She’d remembered that Professors McGonagall and Sinistra had shared their theories on the ebb and flow of magical energy running along the Scottish ley lines and the astronomical occurrences at each point.

Coincidently, _or not_ , right as the trio had crossed, there was a surge of magic. They all felt it. It came up around them like an ocean wave then crashed down upon them. When it was all over, Hermione and Harry shook off the charged feeling, but Ron was left nearly barren; his magic was weak and unreliable. He had been unable to successfully wield any magic since the wave. He was almost like a child would be, experiencing accidental magical outbursts. That was two weeks ago. They had been fighting non- stop, and it was taking its toll on everyone.

“So now where to?” Her voice was flat and her question direct.

“Stop pressuring me! I’m thinking!” He snapped.

The hope that she could avoid a row was now dashed. In fact, she was so used to his emotional patterns that she began to count to herself; he would be blaming her in three. Two. One.  

Silence.

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

“This is all your fault, ‘Mione!” he barked.

It was so sudden that she jumped. She huffed, her count had been off. _Must be lack of sleep_ , she thought and shook her head to clear it.

“Are you listening?!” he yelled. She hadn’t been, but she was now.

Hermione nodded and summarized, making a small attempt to take the sarcastic edge off, but being wholly unsuccessful. “This is my fault. You are hungry and cold, and if I hadn’t been rushing you, we wouldn’t be here, and you would have led us, without incident, to the Seer for guidance and the way forward. That about cover it?” Her voice was flat and bored. It belied her rapidly beating heart and mental voice shouting that he should go take a long leap off a short pier.

Ron just stared at her. His face was beet red and his fists were balled making his knuckles white. He was angry. She’d never seen him thus; at least directed at her. She almost backed up a step… _almost_.

His expression twisted and he stepped forward, into her personal space. Hermione felt her body bend backward a bit, but her feet didn’t move. “You think you are superior to me now that you have magic and I…?” He swallowed, but didn’t finish the sentence, as if the words and the meaning behind them were too hard to say. The question was so strained that spittle flew from his mouth. “My magic will return and my status in society will not change when this is all over, but you-“

He had to pause a moment and lower the stiff finger that he had raised. “You will still be the socially awkward Muggleborn witch, who has absolutely no social grace whatsoever. No one likes you, because no one likes a know-it-all who can’t keep her mouth shut. Always by-the-book. You can never just…” he was looking for the right term when Hermione supplied it. “Wing it?”

He didn’t respond, or at least she didn’t give him time to. “Because winging it has been so successful thus far?” she asked looking around at the vast distances of glacial glens and icy lochs. She thought for a brief moment that if they weren’t in the situation they were in, she might find this scenery stunning in its winter beauty, with blue skies and clouds that glow pink in the winter light. Alas, she knew that the desperate emotion now tied to this place would never allow her to return to enjoy it.

“You aren’t even pretty.” It was low, even for Ron, but he’d said it and he couldn’t take it back.

Her emotions peaked. She was somewhere between enraged at his audacity and crushed by his clear betrayal and disdain for her. Her eyes pricked with tears, but she wouldn’t let them fall.

Ronald turned back around and Hermione swallowed her broken heart. She cleared her throat. “Right,” she whispered as her breath caught. She knew what she had to do.

That was when she’d rushed into the tent and told Harry what they were doing and where they were going. It was just the thing to get him moving. It was what he had been waiting for. Ron was irritated, but said nothing, only helped to pack their things and get going. He side-along Apparated with Harry.

**_**At Present…_ **

Hermione felt a pinch to her arm and looked up sharply at the culprit. It was Harry and he motioned with his chin to pay attention to Kingsley, who was the new Minister of Magic. Odd. _What did Harry care if I am paying attention or not?_

Kingsley was speaking about the new bill that was passed unanimously by the Wizengamot. Hermione frowned. _New bill?_

Kingsley went on to give statistics on low birth rates and the ever increasing divide between classes, and how it would eventually impact the work place and the economy in the coming years…

Hermione just listened, interested in how this bill would solve the burgeoning crisis and staring in wonder at how quickly Kingsley put it together and submitted the bill for vote. Thinking back now, she wished that she had acted on impulse and walked off the stage.

“…So that is why the Recompense Bill is important and why I would ask for you to receive it with an open mind, armed with the knowledge that it will offer a more positive view of our magical future.” Kingsley took a breath, looked around and motioned for Percy Weasley to step forward.

Percy was gangly and odd looking, and seemed as though he was the most uncomfortable person on the planet.

“H-Hello out there.” The Sonorus charm failed momentarily, and the crowd only heard the ‘H’ and ‘there’. In the distance, something dropped quite loudly on the ground, and an owl flew overhead; its excrement falling just to the left of Percy, with a loud splat.

He cleared his throat and started again.

“The Recompense Bill will act as a bridge to each of our magical and economical classes. It will allow understanding between the cultures and enable a common goal of equality, social harmony, stronger magic in our children and a broader knowledge base for our citizens.” He paused reading from his card to look out to the crowd. It was clear he had been rehearsing, but his speech was still a bit awkward and choppy.

Hermione’s brain was working quickly to connect the dots. She pulled Harry in when the light came on. “Did you know about this????” she hissed.

He averted his eyes and that was all the answer she needed. “A Marriage Law?!” she all but shrieked in disbelief as she stood. Her chair dropped backward in time to the general gasp of shock by the audience and a low growl of discontent from Kingsley. She also thought she heard Harry whisper-shout, ‘ _I told you to tell her before we came out here_ ’ to Kingsley.

Percy skittered to the side, afraid that Hermione might cast an Unforgiveable his way, and stuttered, “But the Muggleborns get the choice! It’s their choice!”

She paused, shaking her head. “My choice?!” she spat. “What happens if we decline?? I mean, _marriage?_!”

Kingsley stepped up and sighed. “You can participate or you can leave.” He let that sink in then said, “Your magical brethren need you, Hermione. _We_ need you.” He then turned towards the shocked-into-silence crowd and said, “All Muggleborns have five days to make a choice. As of Wednesday of next week, we will begin the transition of removal from our world.”

As he left the stage, shaking his head and muttering to himself about how he had expected that to go smoother, Hermione thought that he sounded dooming and wondered what was involved in the ‘transition of removal’.

She needed to think. But first, she needed to get her hands on the bill and read it.


	2. Kingley's office the next morning

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

 

Hermione looked around the room. She’d spent most of the night reading the Recompense Bill, and processing what it had to offer.

Seated on the couches were Arthur and Percy Weasley, and Harry Potter. Severus was standing towards the corner behind the couches, and in the chairs were Hermione, Ginny and Ron. Hermione was the only one, apparently, who was interested in reading the bill in its entirety and was currently flipping through it to reread some key parts.  She stopped when the deep timber of Kingsley’s voice interrupted her.

“We need everyone on board with this. It won’t work if you don’t set the example now,” Kingsley told them, his voice half stern and half pleading, but he was looking at Hermione as he spoke. She found that off-putting.

As Hermione scanned a few highlighted portions of the bill, she noted some of the provisions put in place to protect each spouse from physical, magical and emotional abuse. She nodded in approval.

Each union had to be married for a decade and produce two children, after that, the spouses had a choice to stay together or divorce. Included in these provisions were the protection of family riches. Spouses were expected to fully disclose their financial portfolio and provide access to vaults. However, if one spouse came to the marriage with less than 10% of the total riches of the other spouse, they could only spend up to 6% of the combined total riches per year and no more, unless the wealthier spouse gave their approval to spend more. If they divorced, alimonies would be paid in the amount of 4% of the total liquid assets. Hermione thought that was fair, but this whole affair was not.

“What about the purebloods?” She asked.

“What about them?” Kingsley asked in response. Hermione noticed that Arthur was strangely silent.

“Don’t they have a say as to sharing their wealth and participating in this mockery?”

Kingsley’s eye ticked at her venom. Hermione figured it was a reaction to stress and conflict. It stopped ticking and he sighed, answering her, “We have already paved that road for you. There are magical contracts in place with each family and male heir of marrying age. We started as a negotiating tool for those being indicted for crimes against humanity; the former Death Eaters. Once you choose your spouse, you will tap your wand next to his/her name and your magical signature will imprint and establish a bond with that person.”

The irony of Kingsley mentioning that these people were charged with _crimes against HUMANITY_ were the same people he meant to marry off to the humans that they had committed crimes against did not sit well, but right now, she had other questions. “Did any refuse?”

There was a pause and then a slow nod. “Millicent Bulstrode.”

Ron chortled. “Prob’ly a good thing. Don’t they have trolls in their line?”

Hermione ignored him and looked to Kingsley. “What happened to her?”

It seemed no one wanted to answer, but in the end, Arthur finally spoke. “She was Obliviated, her wand was snapped, her family’s entitlements were redistributed, and she was sent to foster in Muggle London.”

Hermione was appalled and mildly fearful. This was not a choice. It was a terrible future that Purebloods faced if this was the outcome for refusal. Muggleborns could get by, but Purebloods… And to whom was the Bulstrode wealth redistributed? She refrained from reciting a line from Hamlet, ‘ _Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.’_

“I see,” she said instead. “Are there any exceptions? A waiver to those in school, or…? I mean, Arthur, are you going to marry Ginny off so soon?”

Another pause pregnant with tension. Hermione frowned. “Arthur?”

Kingsley came to the rescue. “The Weasley’s are exempt.”

Hermione tried to keep a straight face, but it wasn’t to be, her eyebrows shot up into her hair line. “Who else is exempt?” Hoping against hope that she was included. Alas it was not to be.

“Harry, of course, and Severus.”

Her eyes darted to Severus. They were full of hurt and betrayal. He _knew_. They all had. “I am not able to father children any longer, Miss Granger. Thus, not a good candidate for this program,” he offered in way of explanation.

Her mind latched onto the ‘ _any longer_ ’ part of that sentence, but she refused to be distracted by it. And Harry too, because the Weasley’s considered him family. She didn’t want to believe them capable of underhanded behavior, but it was the human condition to protect those you loved and pursue beneficial alliances. The Potter’s had many vaults of their own and had access to the Peverall vaults as well – essentially, Harry was filthy rich.

Hermione was neither a beneficial alliance since she was not wealthy enough to sustain long-term quality of living without paid employment, and without draining her savings. She did have her own vault and it had a respectable amount of gold in it, but it wasn’t anywhere near the riches found in established pureblood families. And then there was the fact that Ron and she were no longer even friends, nor was she loved by the Weasley family. Molly and Hermione had certainly had their moments, as well as Ginny and her… Hermione understood.  

“So the onus is on me to set the example.” It wasn’t a question, but Kingsley and Arthur nodded any way.

Kingsley, in an effort to brighten the mood, offered Hermione a list of candidates who they chose as potential mates for her. Proffering the very short scroll to her, he said, “Now, you can choose whomever you want, but these men are of good character and have the means to provide you a comfortable life. They will allow you to do what you please,” he added cheerfully. “And we believe that they are comparable to your magical abilities, but we’ll need to test that first to make sure.” He said the last quietly and did not want to say it again.

She frowned then he frowned. “I’m to be tested as well? And, you think they will _allow_ me..? I’m not a piece of property, Kingsley.” Her mind reeled as it processed the gravity of the situation.

“Right. Of course not. I meant that they would not challenge your initiative.”

Hermione looked at the list and balked. This would not do.

Neville. Hermione’s heart softened a bit. They had been through much together, and were very close friends; family, really, but she wouldn’t marry him. They wouldn’t make a good match, magically or otherwise.

Zacharias Smith. Hermione snorted. Not a million years would she endeavor to speak to him again, much less marry the absconder! She thought viciously, remembering that he abandoned the DA and did not fight.

The other two names she didn’t recognize. They were either older or younger and none fought anywhere near her during the war.

She closed her eyes in an attempt to stave off the massive head ache that was forming.

“Hermione?” It was Harry and his voice was sympathetic.

Opening her eyes and lifting her head, she blinked to keep the tears at bay. His green eyes were compassionate and understanding.

Hermione smiled at him. Though it wasn’t bright or genuine, she knew that he was overly sensitive and didn’t want to make him feel any worse than he already did.   He opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione spoke first. “It’s alright, Harry.” She would do this. She would do this because she loved the magical world with all of its flaws, and all of its wonder. She would do it, because she was a witch, who belonged in the wizarding world. She’d fought for the right to be here.

To Kingsley, she said, “I opt for the official process of matching. I will be tested, as I am assuming that you have tested everyone else, then did you have a process in mind for matching magics? Arithmancy? Seers?”

Arthur nodded and told the group, rather enthusiastically, that they had engaged the Department of Mysteries to form a focus group of both proven Seers and Arithmancy experts to determine suitable matches. _Must have been his idea_ , thought Hermione, with some amount of snark in her mental tone.

“Will I get an official list and report once that is complete? And the bill did not state any timeframes for getting married. Will we have time to… get to know each other?”

“Yes. You will receive a report, a list, and we have discussed a 90 days to court. We can test you now, if you are amenable to that..?” Kingsley asked.

Hermione slowly nodded and handed back the unofficial list that would have allowed her to choose _friends_ , and prepared for the direction of testing her magical ability and force.

**_OoO_ **

Hermione slammed the door to her small flat, and with a loud sigh, slid down to the floor. With her face in her hands, she sobbed. She let out all the stress and hurt and heartbreak at how she was being treated and the dark days that would follow. She mourned the future she thought she would have, the love she thought she would feel, and the positive impact she thought she would make on the wizarding world.

As the feeling passed, and her breathing returned to semi-normal, she took a deep breath and stood. Tea was in order. She brewed it the Muggle way and took each task with gentle measure while she processed the last few hours of the day.

The test had been grueling and had taken hours. In the end, Kingsley had placed her magical ability in the 97 percentile of the population. This was received with enthusiasm by Arthur and Kingsley, resentment and anger from Ron, the appearance of pride from Severus and confusion from both Harry and her. The official report would be owled to her by mid-day tomorrow.

As it turned out, her magic could support multiple husbands. When she refused to entertain the idea of multiple husbands, Kingsley had his staff witch produce scientific studies by the Department of Mysteries’, Scientific Studies and Research Section (SSRS) that stated that she and her magically elite brethren were at a very high risk of early death if they should remain single, or take on just one spouse. Hermione reacted by debating and yelling and countering their points, but even she could not argue against the science and logic documented in multiple articles and scientific journals, with multiple references and authors around the world.

Hermione conceded and walked out of the office feeling defeated and lost, and grudgingly grateful that she now understood a bit more of why she often felt fatigued and suffered from migraines. She’d need to do more research, but it was a start.

She would choose three husbands. She would have six children, at minimum. And Kingsley was kind enough to extend the 90 days to 120 days, since she would have more than one husband.

Her mind bounced from rage and making her future husband’s lives a living hell, to quietly succumbing and suffering in silence to running away and living as a Muggle, _and possibly dying a long, painful death_ , her mind added, to finally taking a two pronged approach to A) gaining her husband’s trust and partnership. Maybe she could have a nice life that would give her a family that she could rely on, if not the fairytale love that make-believe tales were written from.   And B) find a way to bring equality into the wizarding world. The consequences suffered by the purebloods if they declined participation was deplorable, and she would not stand for it. There had to be a better way. And she didn’t appreciate being given an ultimatum either. It was not right. She nodded with optimism. She could still have a positive impact, broader and more important than she had originally thought.

First thing’s first, she needed to pull herself together and look over the report when it came. She had a preliminary list of matches. Many of these wizards were older, and every last one of them were criminals. Though, their magical abilities and power were far above average and most of them had intelligence quotient’s that were comparable to hers. Prejudice aside, she could work with this. Nodding to herself. She knew she could look past their... * _ahem_ * shortcomings and previous behavior. She would model civility and reason. She would approach them as an intellectual equal and appeal to their logic. She knew any relationship had growing pains and she would encourage them to talk about their concerns - _like reasonable adults_. Once they understood that she could be a powerful ally, they would _forgive_ her parentage, and they would all move forward.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

 

**_**Spinner’s End_ **

“Hermione will want an explanation,” Minerva told him. He knew she would of course. Minerva was just stating the obvious.

Severus swallowed down the two fingers of brandy. His face did not reflect the burn of the liquor down his throat. “Still so skilled at stating the self-evident, Minnie.”

Minerva stretched her lips in irritation. “What will you tell her?” The head of Gryffindor was very protective of her favorite student. Severus knew she needed assurance that he would act fairly in regards to Hermione and her emotional well-being.

“The truth.” They both sighed.

**_**The Burrow_ **

“I don’t think this is a good idea, mate,” Harry told his best friend.

“If the situation were reversed, wouldn’t you be looking for ways to get your magic back?” Ron asked, pleading for Harry to understand.

Harry shook his head. What Ron wanted to do was wrong, but Harry couldn’t say no. Ron was so vulnerable. He needed this. Harry’s resignation was interrupted by Ron’s beseeching next statement. “Please. I’ll die.”

“You are stealing magic, Ron! It is exactly what Voldemort accused Muggleborns of doing!”

Ron shook his head. “No. I was born magical. I am taking what was mine already. It’s only a transfer of magic. I wouldn’t be able to do it if I wasn’t already magical!” His logic was tremendously flawed, but Harry knew that if he didn’t help, Ron would go it alone and probably end up killing himself or the magical subject or both. He didn’t see a way around the situation. He had to help.

Harry had reservations about performing the spell and brewing the potion. He thought they needed someone else, but Ron insisted on just the two of them. With a long sigh, Harry caved. “Alright, Mate.”

Ron crumbled with relief. After a moment, he began thinking about whose magic he would imbibe.  He wanted someone who had strong magic; stronger than his had been.

**_**Next Day, after lunch._ **

Hermione took the day off. She wanted to have some time to mentally process the outcome of the report. At precisely 1:31 pm, an owl pecked at her kitchen window, wearing a Ministry tag and carrying a scroll with the Ministry seal. With her hair in a hap-hazard bun at the top of her head and wearing a clean pair of pajamas, she shuffled to open the kitchen window, gave the bird a treat and received the report.   Her breath hitched, her stomach twisted and she felt a pang of anxiety in her chest.

She had spent most of the morning, making charts and defining the steps to accomplish what she wanted to accomplish. She then listed out the things she needed in a husband.

Hermione stared at the scroll in her hand. This was it.

She performed a charm that would return it to its original state and was surprised at how heavy and thick it was. She had assumed that her report would be a few feet in length with a list of husband-candidates at the bottom, but this looked quite thorough.

Setting it down on the table, Hermione grabbed some butter biscuits and some tea then made her way to curl up on her couch to read all it had to offer. Taking a breath, she began. Her information was first and she almost skipped to the husband part, but something stopped her.

At the top, under “ _Name **/** Blood-Status **/** House_”, it stated: **Granger, Hermione J./Half-Blood/Gryffindor**

Her eyes stuck on half-blood for a full heartbeat. She read further.

“ _Parentage_ ”

**Snape, Severus T./Half-Blood/ Slytherin (Father) > **

**Prince, Eileen H./Pureblood/Ravenclaw (Grandmother)/ Snape, Tobias M./Muggle/NA (Grandfather – _deceased_ )**

**Selwyn, Serena M./Pureblood/Hufflepuff (Mother) >**

**Rosier, Ursula D./Pureblood/Slytherin (Grandmother – _deceased_ )/ Selwyn, Bertrum/Ravenclaw (Grandfather – _deceased_ )**

“No,” she whispered, reading the lines repeatedly.

Her mind was reeling.

Her parents had always treated her with care, but not exactly loving. They hadn’t seem surprised when Professor McGonagall had brought her Hogwarts letter, and they had left her to her own devices when she left for school. Not unkindly, but rather like setting a wild animal free after you healed its ailments.

Hermione blinked back the tears that were fighting to get free. Her entire being was firmly set upon the Plight of the Muggleborn, and all other underdogs in Wizarding London, and now… _And now?_

She needed to – _what?_ Talk to her parents. Talk to Snape. How would she reach out to the Selwyn family? Who else knew? Why was it hidden? Was it hidden? Was the report public information?

The last question was answered for her, when four owls pecked at her window. Dropping her face in her hands, she began to sob, with owls pecking and her mind shouting and her heart pounding. She felt her breath shallow and an aura cloud her vision. She was dizzy and then everything faded to black.

No pecking. No crying. It was calm. Her mind’s eye was breathing and smiling and walking. She paused at the onset of a field of red poppies; acres of them. It was a beautiful site. There was someone up ahead. The closer they got to her, the warmer she felt.   It was a fuzzy feeling of security and grace.

“Hello,” she greeted.

The being was a small child. Perhaps five. Hermione couldn’t tell if it were a girl or boy. “Good day,” the child replied.

Not wishing to leave the child, Hermione sat down amidst the poppies. “Aren’t they beautiful?” she asked.

The child followed suit and plopped down beside her. “They are.”

“My name is Hermione. What’s your name?”

“Astraea.”

“That’s lovely. Goddess of Justice.”

Astraea looked at the poppies then at Hermione. The girl had piercing blue eyes. Something about them gave Hermione pause. “If these poppies turned a shade lighter or a shade darker, would they be any less beautiful, do you think?”

Hermione shook her head. “No.”

“Perhaps if they grew taller or shorter?”

“No.”

“Would they be any less, in any way if the soil they were planted in came from a different source, would that make them less beautiful or would it impede their purpose to give us joy upon sight of them?”

Hermione was crying now. “No.”

Astraea scuttled closer to Hermione and took her hands, gently holding them. “Don’t cry, Hermione. Your soul is as beautiful as it ever was.”

Hermione shivered at Astraea’s departure then woke suddenly at more noise.

The birds.

The Floo.

The door.

**_**The Daily Prophet_ **

Hermione was prepared for it. Kingsley (the Floo) and Percy (owl A) had come by to talk about it with her. They claimed that they didn’t know.

Harry (owl B, and the door.) was also present, offering solace and sharing in her utter shock about Snape, who was absent during the small evening gathering.

Molly sent a message (owl C) that offered some insight as to who was still living from the Selwyn family, along with the negative commentary on just exactly how terrible they were, which did little in the way of lifting Hermione’s spirits.

And Severus sent a message (owl D), in his usual brusque manner, which did nothing to quell the ever-increasing anxiety, threatening to stop Hermione’s heart and suffocate her at any moment.

_Minerva’s office. Thursday, 11 a.m. –best, Severus Snape **OoO**_

**MUGGLEBORN NO MORE! GRANGER (nee _Snape_ ) A HALF-BLOOD. **

**HOAX, CRY FOR ATTENTION, OR TRUTH?** Details inside.

Hermione snorted and shook her head. “ _Stupid_ ,” she hissed, with disdain, and dropped the paper in the rubbish bin. It was time to go meet her father.

At some point during the night, Hermione’s anxiety about being Severus’ daughter turned into excited trepidation. She wasn’t sure how well she was pulling off those combined emotions, but she was going to roll with it. Practically skipping to the Apparition point, Hermione disappeared with a pop!

**_**Hogwarts_ **

The anxiety returned as she passed through the imposing wooden doors of the castle. She made a left instead of continuing straight into the Great Hall. Up the spiraling staircase, she took two at a time. Hermione had to pause at the top to catch her breath; it was a bit steeper than she thought. After a moment, she straightened up, smoothed her skirt down and lifted her chin.

She called out that she was there to see Severus Snape and the demon jumped aside. Hermione never liked it; it unnerved her.

Hermione walked inside the cozy office. It had been one of the first rooms inside the castle to be restored. The portraits were hung and watching, the desk was back in its spot and there was a nice sitting area near the fireplace, but there were still signs of war’s past. Not all of the books made it back on the shelves in unmarred or at all. Not all of the shelves made it back to the wall. There were two jagged cracks in the wall opposite the desk, and Fawkes and his stand were quite noticeably missing. In its place was a cat tree and soft pillow.

“Professor,” Hermione greeted warmly, her hands held out to grasp her mentor’s.

“Please, child. Minerva will do.”

Hermione’s eyes darted around. “Where’s..?”

Minerva hesitated. “He’s not here-“

Hermione interrupted, both alarmed and annoyed. “But-“

Minerva held a hand up to stay the younger witch’s objection. “He left you a memory. You may use the Pensieve.” She jutted her chin to the right. “Just there.” She pulled the vial from her robes and handed it to Hermione.

Hermione took it. Her movement was slow and deliberate. She stared at the swirling mist curiously, wearing both an expression of intrigue and fear. Her feet acted of their own accord and when she reached the stand, her hands poured the reactor liquid in the marbled Pensieve then the actual memory.

She opened her eyes to a relatively fresh faced Severus. Upon closer inspection, she realized that he was looking in the mirror. He looked much like he does now sans some of the furrowed worry lines he currently wore with such authority. He took a deep breath and the memory became a blur with colors and chaos. It made her dizzy and she realized that she was witnessing his Apparation.

Blinking and fighting the onset of nausea, she gasped at the sight in front of her. It was a gathering of sorts. There were hooded figures and non-hooded figures. _Death Eaters,_ she murmured with vehemence. People she recognized and many she didn’t, but what was slowly dawning on her was that people were being tortured. In the middle of a great room. Men were on their knees, naked and bloody. Fenrir Greyback and his pack were having at them; slowly killing them. There were women strapped to manacles, hanging from the ceiling. They were also naked and some were being raped. Hermione looked across the debauchery and shivered at the wicked smile of pure evil worn by the Dark Lord. He was sitting on a throne, and urging the tormentors on. It was a disgusting display; one that turned her stomach.

Just then, the Dark Lord looked up to see Severus and his expression changed into one of welcome. Severus bowed deeply and greeted the man on the throne.

“You may rise, loyal servant.”

“Thank you, My Lord. How may I be of service this night?”

Voldemort motioned for one of his Death Eaters to leave. Hermione didn’t recognize the servant, but he nodded and then vanished. Hermione took the moment to look around. Odd things stood out to her, like the sour expression Lucius Malfoy was wearing. He kept looking towards the door and then at his watch. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

The servant came back with a young witch in tow. She was crying, but not excessively so. A man, who resembled the girl, followed behind, stumbling and cowering. The Death Eater roughly shoved the man to his knees.

“Bertrum Selwyn, welcome,” the Dark Lord crooned. Hermione’s breath caught.

“Lord,” Bertrum greeted reluctantly.

Voldemort ignored the absence of ‘My’ in that greeting, and decided he would get straight to the point. “You are charged with treason, Lord Selwyn. The consequence for crimes against your brethren and consorting with the enemy is the forfeit of your place in our ranks and your daughter.”

The last had Bertrum hollering and pleading with the Dark Lord, but the louder the begging, the more resolute the decision.

Hermione’s vision shot to Severus, who looked pale and like he would vomit at any moment. Lucius looked flabbergasted, as was similar with a few of the other Death Eaters. Voldemort motioned for Severus to step forward. Hermione could tell that his stinted movement forward was a fight and that he did not want to do anything remotely related to punishment on the girl.

“Severus, please show Bertrum what we do to the daughters of blood traitors.”

Severus paused and Voldemort cocking his head. “Severus?”

Severus swallowed and then spoke slowly, cautiously. “My Lord, forgive me, but Miss Selwyn is rather… simple minded. She is in remedial scholastics and has trouble fully grasping the gravity of most situations.”

Bertrum was quietly sobbing and apologizing to his daughter, who was looking at her father strangely.

Lucius and others looked positively appalled. If they were appalled now, in the next instant they would realize the depravity of their master. “So? Spread the beast’s thighs and plunder her, Severus. If she is so simple, she will forget soon enough.”

At Severus’ motionless state, the Dark Lord upped the ante. “You will do as you’re told, Severus, or I will cut the Prince family skein.” He was referring to the Lady Prince, Severus’ mother. She was already ailing and if Severus left her fate to Voldemort, his mother would not die quickly.

Making quick eye contact with Lucius Malfoy, who offered a passing sympathetic expression, Severus stepped forward and magically bound the girl.

“And Severus?”

Snape looked at his Lord.

“Do not dull the pain. We would like to experience her cries with you.”

“Yes, My Lord.”


	4. Eileen Prince

**_**Chapter 4_ **

Hermione was pale and shaking when she pulled out of the Pensieve. The girl had been raped.

_Raped_.

By Severus.

Minerva had placed a small rubbish bin with a plastic bag near her, to which Hermione promptly vomited in then cried for the situation; the girl, Severus, herself, all those other people, even Lucius Malfoy.

The dulcet voice of Severus Snape jolted her out of the emotion. She looked up with tears still flowing and saw him. He was sitting in the chair, legs crossed, handling a tumbler of firewhiskey.

“Would you like one, Miss Granger?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He nodded and stood to get it for her. Hermione stumbled over to the seat in front of him and plopped down.

She gulped down the brown liquid and made a face as it burned her throat. “That poor girl,” she said.

“Your mother.”

“Please,” she whispered, hands shaking.

“Please what?” Severus asked, a bit harsher than intended.

She screamed at him. “Tell me!” Spittle flew from her mouth, her chest heaved, and her lip quivered. Her eyes pierced him with rage and the promise of pain if he did not comply with her request. Then she softened. _He’s been through so much_ , she thought, _we all have_. “I don’t need the gory details. A fair summary,” she amended, still feeling as though she’d been knocked breathless.

Severus looked relieved, and nodded.

“Your grandfather, Bertrum Selwyn, was killed that night. You may take pride in the fact that he did not acquiesce to the Dark Lord. He resisted.” He took another drink. He was fighting with himself on how much detail to go into. After a moment, he pursed his lips and continued.

“We realized Serena was pregnant two days later. Narcissa regularly performed pregnancy spells on the witches who… were victims of revels. We knew that Serena did not have the capacity to raise you.”

“Because she was simple?” Hermione asked.

Severus nodded. “That was putting it nicely. She had severe learning disabilities…” he paused then came to some sort of conclusion. “Your grandparents, Serena’s parents, were half-siblings.”

Hermione gasped and blinked.

Severus read her expression, but didn’t elaborate. There was no need.

He had been quite proud of her. Hermione was considered to be brighter than most. He’d heard once that she was the smartest witch since Rowena Ravenclaw, but he thought that was a bit of a stretch. Hermione was academically astute; she was practical and approached things with logic. She was very linear in her thinking –

* _Ahem_ * It was Hermione. “And..?”

Severus nodded.

“The Dark Lord was furious when he found out she was pregnant. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy jumped into action and hid her away or she would have died that night. You owe your life to the Malfoys.”

Hermione poured herself another drink, and closed her eyes for a moment.

“Once Serena had you, you were brought to me, and together Lucius, Antonin, and myself found a family to take you. I wanted you to have as normal and safe a life as I could provide.” He hesitated before he spoke the next words. “My expectation; my _hope_ was that if you were raised in a stable and nurturing environment then in the event that you found out the circumstance of your biological parents that it would be easier for you to process.”

He waited for Hermione to say something, but she just nodded. After a few moments of silence, she told him, “I need some time, Severus. Right now I want to hear the rest of it.”

Severus exhaled. “Serena escaped after we took you. Narcissa was worried for her and put out quiet inquiries as to her whereabouts, but we think that she was living in the streets. We couldn’t find her. She was found by Death Eaters. Later, she was killed during another revel.”

Severus was now feeling the calming effects of both the Draught of Peace he brewed and swallowed down and the six fingers of whiskey he had consumed while sitting there waiting for Hermione to hate him.

“Did you know who I was? Were you never going to tell me?” Her eyes were bright and round as she looked at him, betrayed.

“I did know. No, I had no intention of sharing that information with you. I – I … couldn’t. My actions were inexcusable and I should not have been a coward. I rested my morals on spying for the Order; for the greater good, but it does not excuse what I did.” He shook his head. Guilt flooding his system. He swallowed and continued his tale.

“After we discovered Serena was pregnant, I performed a spell that would leave me unable to father any children again.”

Hermione hesitated, her eyes bouncing from one corner of the room to the other – anywhere but him. “And what do you feel now that I know?” He thought for a moment, his face the same stoic expression as it always was. “Relieved.” Hermione didn’t mean to react the way she did, but it happened. It was a small movement – the drop of her shoulders, which she immediately lifted up. Before she could move on to her next question, before she erupted into sobs of despair, Severus spoke again. Quietly, but clearly. “And proud.”

This time the tears came, but they were tears of relief that he would not reject her and before she knew it, she had flung herself at his feet, hugging his knees and crying into his trousers.

He was uncomfortable. “Hermione,” he called.

“Hermione.”

Her hysterics continued and his patience concluded. “Miss Granger!”

Hermione lifted her head, and looked at her father. “Snape,” she corrected, readily accepting him as her father.

He sighed and shook his head. “Snape has nothing to offer. I would be honored – _we_ would be honored if you took the Prince family legacy.”

She smiled, liking the way that sounded. “We?”

He smiled then. It was small and hesitant. “Your grandmother and myself.”

More tears flowed. “Thank you. Yes, I would love that.”

“Now that that is settled, you have other questions,” he said. It was not an inquiry.

She smiled and nodded. She would ignore the fact that she was a product of rape for now and focus on her grandfather. “What exactly did Bertrum do? Voldemort mentioned Treason..?”

Severus took in a deep breath. “He was a smart man, and could read the signs well enough. He was not a bigot, or a purist, but leaned more towards preserving the old pureblood traditions, like courtship, social and business. One of his more visible missteps was a debate among the Wizengamot, to which he was a sitting member, was that he was part of a motion to diversify the Wizengamot. He argued that seats should have legacy positions, meaning purebloods could pass down the seat to their children. However, he felt that the children should meet certain criteria, and if they didn’t and the seat remained empty for a decade, it would be up for election. That was the part that had purebloods in a ruckus.   Bertrum also felt that a certain number seats should be available for other cognitive magical being, be it Muggleborn or Centaur, if they met certain criteria.”

“So he knew that the process would be a slow one, but even slow progress was good,” Hermione concluded.

Severus nodded. “He began receiving death threats. And things just went downhill from there. Finally, he tried to move his wife and daughter to the Americas, and in the process ended up killing a Death Eater, who caught them running.”

There was a pause; a moment of silence.

“He was never a Death Eater?” she asked.

“No.”

“So what now?” Hermione asked, worried that he would tell her she wasn’t worth the trouble, but he didn’t. He wasn’t unicorns and rainbows, but he wasn’t cold and distant either.

“We will take it one day at a time. I have been angry and isolated for more years than I care to count. I am asking that you be patient, and that we work together as we forge ahead with this new dynamic.” He paused.

“Should we make a plan? We can map out our next milestones.”

This suggestion made him smirk and give a little huff in humor. Of course she wants a plan. That was always where she started at the Order’s meetings. He could remember her small but fierce voice: _“The plan was to…”_

He knew she would need time to understand and work through the emotions of discovering that she was a product of rape. But right now, he wanted to drink in the idea that his daughter was a healthy and capable human being, who happened to be extremely magically talented.

“My mother would like to meet you, and we should discuss your list of marital candidates. We will sit down later to discuss the next …milestones.”

She offered him a toothy smile, feeling better. “But first, we must eat. I’m starving!”

**_**Eileen Prince_ **

Hermione was awe-struck by the size and beauty of the Prince Estates.  

Severus did not have to twist Hermione’s arm to convince her that dinner that same night, with Eileen Prince was a good idea.   She agreed, rather enthusiastically.

He’d told her to dress semi-formal and he would pick her up at 7:30. Hermione had spent the time in between meditating. She found it helped her chaotic mind and focused her magic. It calmed her frayed nerves and eased some of the heavy burden weighing over her heart. The burden was yet undefined. Hermione knew it was tied to the knowledge that her mother was raped by her father, and there was some guilt there connected to her positive emotions she felt for Severus. She certainly didn’t blame him or harbor any anger towards him for what happened. She did feel a renewed sense of anger and disbelief towards Voldemort. She shook her head.

As they walked up the path, the large bell shaped flowers stood and faced the pair. Hermione found it strangely comforting. They smelled like honey suckle.

She really loved the magical world.

It was a long paved walk way up to the door that led to a large country manor with two buildings behind each side of the house. One was a barn and the other some other stone building, with smaller windows at the top with a pitched roof.   The grounds were fenced with crossed horse fencing and there was a solid tree line some ways back that marked the beginning of the forested portion of the estates.   Hermione was certain she saw movement from just inside the line, but blinked and couldn’t see anything again.

The double doors opened and Hermione met the ink blue eyes of an older woman. She was taller than Hermione, but not by much, and thin. Her face was pale and lips thin, but Hermione saw wisdom and compassion in those eyes that drew her like moth to a flame. At that moment, the two witches shared a connection that had been waiting for more than 20 years to happen. Eileen opened her arms to welcome her granddaughter and Hermione fell into them; her face in Eileen’s shoulder and Eileen smoothing her hair.

Severus stopped the introductions mid-sentence; he wasn’t even certain that either woman had heard a word he’d said.

Hermione cried for several minutes, a feeling of love and understanding and welcoming overcame her and she couldn’t help it.

The trio walked inside, Hermione and Eileen with hooked arms. They sat and tea was poured, and Eileen got right to the point.

“One: You are not related to Dolores Umbridge.” That made Hermione bark out a laugh. She’d heard something about that pink tyrant claiming the Selwyn family years ago and had forgotten it, but was just now reminded of it.

“Two: Bertrum and Ursula were not bad people and they did not knowingly commit incest. Bertrum was raised in France. When his family came back to London, he met Ursula at her debutante ball, and they were married. It wasn’t until the Rosier matriarch came forward, on her death bed, to inform the world that Bertrum and Ursula were, in fact, so closely related. By then, Ursula was pregnant. After Ornelle Rosier passed on, all memory of her confession was swept under the proverbial rug.”

Hermione nodded. And with this knowledge, she felt marginally better, but she still felt like she wouldn’t be shouting from the roof tops that her family tree didn’t branch on one side of her family.

“Three:” Eileen stared directly into Hermione’s eyes and leaned in to capture her hands, “however you came to be on this earth; whatever the circumstance, you are _loved_. You have always been loved and wanted and valued. What happened to Serena was awful, but the only one who should bear the burden of guilt for that is Voldemort, and he is dead.”

Hermione hugged her grandmother and cried. She wasn’t expecting the depth of emotion, but it came like a wave washing over her heart. Eileen had communicated to Hermione that she was important; it was something Hermione had always questioned, as a witch, as a woman, as a member of the Order.

“Thank you so much,” Hermione hiccupped.

Hermione stayed the night at the Prince Estates, sleeping better than she had in years.

 

 


	5. The List

**_**Chapter 5 – The List_ **

Hermione took a deep breath, and a bite of her croissant. She had taken three days to get to know her new family, get a grip on her new circumstance, and explore the grounds to which she was now an heir. She had refused the social gossip, otherwise known as ‘the news’, and had only corresponded with Kingsley about the report and with Harry about her new family. Lately, Harry had seemed… off, but when she’d asked if he was alright, he quickly nodded ( _too quickly_ ) and changed the subject. Hermione figured that he would eventually tell her if something was weighing on his mind, so she didn’t press the issue, though she was worried for him.

On the third day, as Harry, Severus, Hermione and Eileen were having lunch, Kingsley Floo’d in unannounced.

“Hello all. Please accept my apologies for stepping in unannounced. I wanted to follow up with Hermione about her choice.”

Hermione put down the fork and looked at him quizzically. She’d thought she had more time to marry. Harry ended up asking the question for her. “It’s a big decision, Kings. Doesn’t she have 120 days?”

Kingsley nodded and sat down after a seat was offered. “The binding will begin when you take your oaths, but because of the way that the contracts were structured, each day that the bride’s do not commit is a day that the wizards on her list are further… drawn.”

His choice of wording was strange and had everyone at the table perplexed. “Drawn?” Severus asked.

“They feel weak.”

Eileen’s eyebrows rose. “You used blood magic?” Kingsley nodded hesitantly.

No one at the table liked that answer.

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded. “I will give you my decision by tomorrow morning.”

Kingsley opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, looking like a fish out of water, then blurted out, “It’s a press conference.”

Hermione blinked and Harry gaped. Severus leveled a cool glare across the table. “Will we have time to share the knowledge with the chosen beforehand?”

“If you talk to them before tomorrow, yes.”

Kingsley ended the conversation by shoving a scone in his mouth and nodding good bye. Eileen made a face at his atrocious manners and in response, Kingsley clamped his mouth closed and made sound in apology. Hermione took in a deep breath – she was doing that a lot lately and _Accio’d_ the report. Severus waved his wand and transfigured a large portrait of flowers into a chalk board.

Eileen sipped her tea and spoke. “We should begin with Hermione’s strengths and weaknesses, so we know what we are working with, yes?”

Hermione nodded slowly. She could see the logic in that, but did not relish her weaknesses headlined for the world (in this room) to see. Severus read his daughter correctly and suggested another path. “Perhaps, we can first write down your list of candidates, and what they have to offer. Mother and I will have more knowledge of their families than you will.”

Hermione agreed, and opened the report. Swallowing she spoke the first name. “Gregory Goyle Sr.”

All of the occupants in the room shared an expression of distaste. Severus wrote his name down, and under his name spoke as he wrote. “No money, no vaults, no working brain cells, is a complete unsophisticated boor.” Then he carefully lined through Gregory’s name.

Hermione chuckled and Harry smiled. “Moving on,” Harry prompted Hermione.

“Let’s just write all the names and vet them after,” Hermione said then looked down ready to recite the rest of the names, “Rabastan Lestrange… Would you write the ages too, please?” Severus nodded.

At the end of the dictation, the chalk board list was complete and they had vetted many.

Those she had not chosen were lined through:

~~Gregory Goyle Sr~~./ ~~Amycus Carrow~~ / ~~Igor Karkaroff~~ / ~~Augustus Rookwood~~

Those that were currently in the running were being discussed.

**Thorfinn Rowle, 32**

_Physical_ : Strong, Blond, Tall

_Skills_ : Nonverbal magic

Somewhat of a pyromaniac, Reckless, Likes animals

 

“He likes animals?” Harry asked. “How do you know that?”

“He would actively protect or save any animals that were harmed in the raiding of Muggle homes…” Severus answered, shaking his head. The whole concept that a huge Death Eater, filled with hate would save a family pet boggled the mind. “We called him Thorfinn the Mighty.”

“I don’t remember any other blond Death Eaters except the Malfoys and the Carrows,” Harry pondered aloud.

“Thorfinn has a good command of fire spells and is the one who set Hagrid’s hut aflame.” Severus looked at Hermione. He knew she was a bit of a flame lover as well.   The corner of her mouth lifted.

“And, it was Rowle and Dolohov who found us in the café after the wedding,” Hermione reminded Harry.

Harry perked up and then frowned. “Didn’t you _Obliviate_ them? I thought it was permanent.”

They both looked at Severus, who looked at Eileen. Eileen raised an eyebrow at the small group and said, “The Department of Mysteries, Ministry Funded Research and Development Center (MFRDC) worked diligently to reverse _Obliviate_ spells that only masked the memories and did not modify the sequence. As I understand it, theirs were the most successful restoration of memories.”

Severus added to the character traits. “I have known Thorfinn to be loyal to his friends and fearless. Once you successfully, _logically_ persuade him to your opinion, he will not waiver. However, his family vaults are low. The Dark Lord systematically used his follower’s vaults towards the war efforts, and his own personal gain.”

**Rabastan Lestrange, 37**

_Physical:_ very thin, average height, brunette

Skittish, Quiet, Squeamish.

Excels in Arithmancy

 

“Why is he still an option?” Harry asked, making a face.

Hermione slanted her mouth, but it was Severus who answered. “Arithmancy.”

**Marcus Flint, 26**

_Physical_ : Strong, tall, brunette

Bold in action, does not speak very much

Athlete

Loyal to his loved ones

Seer.

 

“Flint’s a seer?” Hermione asked, surprised and intrigued.

Severus nodded.   Hermione nodded. _Interesting_.

**Antonin Dolohov, 45**

Physical: burly wizard, tall

Not a coward and not squeamish

Skilled duelist, nonverbal magic, excels in transfiguration

 

Severus cautioned, “There is no middle ground with Antonin; it is one extreme or another with him.”

 

Hermione scrolled through the list again and frowned. “Why don’t I see Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini or any of the other Slytherin or my years at Hogwarts? Certainly, at least the Malfoys have good, strong magic.”

There was a pause and Severus was loathe to answer. “Lucius is married, and was approached by the Minister and Arthur Weasley with a proposal contract between Draco and Ginerva. If the contract was approved then the Malfoys would avoid any penalties for war crimes.”

Hermione was speechless – for only a moment. “What do the Weasley’s get out of it? Money?” She was flabbergasted.

“And status,” Harry added.

Hermione turned her full posture towards him so fast it made him flinch. “Did you know?!” she asked.

He shook his head. “No.”

Eileen cleared her throat and place an elegant hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “Come. Sit, my dear. Don’t fret over things you cannot change. You have options. They do not. What with the Weasley’s always being a bit of the baser-born purebloods and the Prewitts being hot blooded and untrustworthy, both families poor; it’s no wonder that they are looking for a mountain to climb for power and prestige. And didn’t you say that their youngest son lost his magic to a ley line surge?” The older woman tsked in empathy.

The line of conversation stopped abruptly when Harry stumbled at the last thought and spilled his glass of water. It was a frantic few seconds he spent trying to figure out how to clean it up. Order was restored when Hermione waved her wand and _Evanesco’d_ the mess. “It’s only water, Harry,” she said and smiled.

He returned her smile with a wobbly quirk of his lips and some teeth.

Severus watched the boy closely and mentally began to red-flag his behavior.

The mood shifted again when everyone felt the ripple of magic surround them then evaporate. The report that Severus was currently holding glowed pink for a few seconds then back to normal. Something in the report had changed, but before they could begin flipping through the pages, the Floo activated and Kingsley, once again, stepped through followed by Percy and another wizard, who no one recognized.

Hermione looked positively baffled and Harry was scowling. Hawkish in appearance, with slicked back hair and thin lips, the unknown wizard was looking at Hermione like she was prey and he was a bird of…

“Hello again,” Eileen greeted, standing gracefully in the face of apparent conflict.

Kingsley nodded then turned his attention to Severus and Hermione. “There’s been a … development.”

Severus slowly raised an eyebrow. “Development?”

Kingsley nodded and opened his hand for the report, so he could show them. Once in hand, he flipped to the list. “Here.”

Severus leaned in to see the change. Harry tip toed, getting a bird’s eye view and when he recognized the name, he swallowed a gasp. Then all three men looked at Hermione, who was paralyzed with anxiety. “Who?” she whispered. Not sure why she was so impaired, because her list was riddled with criminals and Slytherin and Death Eaters. _What could be worse than that?_

“Sirius Black.”

She should not have tempted fate by asking. The answer, of course, is the returned-from-the-dead, her previous first-major-crush, and godfather of her best friend! _That’s what could be worse_.

Hermione plopped back down in the chair, dropped her face into her hands, and started to make a long, high pitched keening sound.

The scene made Kingsley uncomfortable and he shifted balance from one foot to the other, while opening and closing his mouth. He clearly did not know what to say or do.

After a few moments, the hawkish wizard spoke. Kneeling in front of the small witch, and gently taking her hands in his, he softly called to her. “Miss Granger, or Snape, if you prefer..?”

His voice was deep and his manner was careful and sensitive to her situation. Hermione sniffled. “Prince, actually.”

He nodded and smiled. “It’s a good name then. Fitting for your character and courage.” Hermione saw it or what it was; flattery, but it worked just the same. She took a deep breath and nodded for him to make his point.

She motioned for him to sit, smiled and wiped away the fallen tears.

“Thank you,” he said, and stood then sat. Hermione heard his knees pop when he stood. He was older than he looked, she thought.

“My name is Leofstan Bishop. I support the Ministry, in the Department of Mysteries. I am here, because last evening we had an anomaly in the Veil room. When we investigated, we found Sirius Black standing in the room, wand drawn, and confused as to where everyone had gone.” Leofstan paused, and ignored Harry shot gunning questions at him. “Mr. Black has some gaps in his memories, but not many. He heard you, Miss Gr-Prince. He heard you call to him, Hermione.”

“How?” Harry asked, wearing an expression that bordered on thinking this was a cruel joke and hope.

Hermione shook her head. She hadn’t thought of Sirius in years.

“We believe that during the magical aptitude test, your magic reached out and performed a Calling of sorts. Sometimes that happens and generally doesn’t amount to anything. Usually, the people Called have reported feeling as if being watched or someone calling their name, but never a tangible action. However, since your magical abilities ranked so high, it stands to reason that your magic’s Calling had more than an ethereal effect.”

She processed the explanation that Leofstan offered and could see the logic in it. She liked him, in spite of his rather harsh look. He was personable and sensitive.

“Where is he now?” Harry asked, practically jumping into the Floo.

“Harry wait!” called Kingsley. “He’s waiting on my Patronus to come here.”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up and she gasped. Looking at her father then her grandmother, who both nodded, she nodded too. “Yes, of course.”

A second before Sirius arrived, Severus put to words what Hermione already knew to be true. “Sirius is on your list of candidates, Hermione.”

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

Hermione had needed a few minutes to gather her thoughts before Sirius stepped through the floo. Though he was waiting, she took her moment and turned to Kingsley, “One moment, please. I need the loo. Be back in a jip.”

Severus’ eyes followed his daughter’s quickly departing form then shifted to his mother’s worried gaze. The elder witch nodded and poured tea for everyone.

Hermione shut the door and sank to the floor. She was filled with anxiety and confusion and frustration and excitement; however that was possible, but she felt each emotion keenly. Her mind was also processing data and facts and scenarios and strategies at break-neck speed.

Shaking her head, she decided that she would not simply comply. She would not make it easy for them to rail road her. It wasn’t in her nature. She would follow the larger edicts, and she understood that her magic was strong and could cause her harm if she didn’t take steps to mitigate that risk, but she would do things her way.

“O’Donnell!” she stage whispered. It was the Prince family butler elf.

He popped in, avoiding any eye contact and clearly uncomfortable with the location from where she was currently requesting his assistance, but he came. “Yes miss.”

“I need a parchment and quill, and I need you to then owl it right away, please.”

O’Donnell snapped and provided his new mistress with the items. She paused, took a long breath and scratched a note. Rolling it up, she handed it to the elf and said, “Make sure that it goes directly.”

O’Donnell bowed and stretched his lips as if he were slightly offended that she thought he would lollygag. “Yes, miss.”

Nodding, she splashed her face with cold water and walked out feeling ready to see Sirius.

**_**Harry_ **

He watched Hermione leave, practically run from the room and wanted to chase her. He didn’t, though he felt compassion towards her current situation. He knew she was under pressure and he had been privy to the back room conversations between Kingsley and Arthur. At the time, he hadn’t fully understood what was happening. His focus had been on Arthur. The Weasely family patriarch had included Harry in the negotiations. He had told Kingsley that Harry was part of his family, like a son and they all loved him as such. It had touched Harry to the point of burning eyes. He’d felt a swelling in heart that some one would fight to include him in their family. He’d been so long with the Dursely’s, under the stairs, tormented and looked down upon that even after all this time away, he still fought against the idea that he was not worth someone else’s time or love. When Arthur looked at Harry over the shoulder of the Minister and added Harry to the family, Harry felt grateful and it was a heart-felt moment that they kept eye contact then Arthur’s light brown eyes slid away from Harry’s and met Kingley’s; all the while speaking quietly of events during the war and partnerships and patrols and life debts. Harry remembered that Arthur had suggested that Hermione was the best possible witch for this job, and that her giving nature and strong convictions would lend credibility to the movement known as Recompense Bill. Arthur told Kingsley that he was certain she would agree because of the greater benefit to the wizarding populace.   Kingsley agreed that Hermione had sacrificed much. She never waivered and was always there for her friends, comrades and he had always been impressed by her small kindnesses. With that logic, and the memories of her noble actions, it didn’t take long for Kingsley to agree.

Harry was still trying to get his emotions under control.  

His mind flashed to Ron. He had agreed to help Ron transfer magic, but Harry was still unsure. Ron had grown up believing that his brothers were better than he, so he took that attitude to school and unfortunately made friends with the boy who lived and the mighty Muggleborn, smarter than the majority of the adult population. It had been difficult for Ron to find his niche and to get the attention that he craved. Now he was garnering attention for all the wrong reasons. All of his insecurities had come true. Harry felt terrible for his friend. He wondered if Harry told Hermione what Ron planned, if she would offer her magic. He would think on this. Perhaps asking for her oath that she not breathe a word of this to anyone else.

**_**The Burrow_ **

“What are you doing?” asked Ginny. She was standing at the edge of the greenhouse, watching him pull and snip and measure. “These are mum’s potion’s herbs. You’ll pay if she finds out your scavenging. Why are you anyway?” Her face was wrinkled with confusion.

Instead of answering his sister, Ron pulled his wand before she realized what was happening and cast his spell. “ _Obliviate_.”

He kept her paused until he could get what all he needed then exited the small structure. When he was behind Ginny, and had put away the herbs, he released the spell. “What are you doing, Gin?”

Ginny Weasley blinked once and frowned. She was facing the greenhouse, but she didn’t remember why she had walked out here or even walking out there. Turning slowly, she shrugged at her brother. “Don’t know.” She laughed then and shook her head. “I forgot what I was doing!”

Ron laughed too, and placed an arm around her shoulder, guiding her back to the house. “Silly! Mum’ll skin you alive if you scavenge her potion’s herbs!” he teased.

**_**The Contract_ **

“Do stop your pacing, Lucius,” Narcissa commented. Her tone was flippant, but her anxiety was palpable.

“I cannot, ‘Cissa! We must find a way to free Draco from this contemptible engagement. I would rather face charges and head to Azkaban than sentence our son to one minute among that loathsome family.”

Putting her needlepoint aside, she focused on her husband. “You know as well as I that there is nothing to be done. The Minister owes Arthur a life debt and we are in no position to negotiate.”

“I dislike being manipulated like some plebian.” He said the last word with a significant amount of distaste, drawing it out to make the point to his wife.

Narcissa sighed. “I do not disagree, my love, but what shall we do about it? We are in a … precarious situation.” She was quite vexed at the entire scene, and wondered to whom she could appeal that would listen. Just then, an elf opened the doors and bowed to the two Malfoys.

“Mistress. Master. I have correspondence.” The elf had been trained and instructed on proper speech and etiquette. Narcissa had insisted on it. The elf handed it to his mistress, actively avoiding the glowering male Malfoy. Lucius rolled his eyes at the elf and waited for Narcissa to open the parchment.

Before she did, she dismissed the elf with a small smile of gratitude and then made a funny face at her husband.

“I shouted at him ONCE!” Lucius said in defense, making Narcissa laugh. It was a joyous sound and Lucius longed to hear it more often.

Once open, she read it quickly and quirked a perfectly shaped eyebrow then handed it to Lucius. He also lifted a brow and they shared a hopeful and somewhat Machiavellian smile. Maybe things were looking up.

**_**Sirius Black_ **

He was having trouble breathing. His godson was hugging him so tightly and so quickly that his breath whooshed out of him. He half-heartedly returned the vigorous welcome with a smile and pats on Harry’s now-grown up shoulders; his eyes were glued to the woman he knew to be Hermione, _his_ Hermione.

It wasn’t that he was not glad to see everyone, he was. But it was that _her_ magic had brought him back, had pulled him from the dark of the shadows and into the light. Her magic surrounded him. It was all over him like moss on a tree.

He pushed Harry to arm’s length and squeezed his shoulders. “It’s good to see you, Harry. You look good; grown up.” It was then, while Sirius looked into the green eyes of his godson that he took a deep breath and fought the intense emotion of sadness, happiness, relief and hope. He blinked back the burning in his eyes.   Harry was not so adept at pushing down the emotion. The tears flowed freely and it made Hermione tear up as well. She was so happy for Harry that she felt his excitement.

Leofstan cleared his throat and nodded at Sirius. “Hello Mr. Black.”

Sirius let go of Harry and nodded at the wizard standing much too close to Hermione.

Hermione thought Sirius looked like he was ready for battle. She felt a strong urge to jump into his arms, but didn’t want to overwhelm him and was not certain he would welcome such a display. She was currently drinking him in. He hadn’t aged a day.

She watched the ferocity of his stare unto Leofstan, the chiseled jaw, the clenched fists and squared shoulders. They had spent time together in the library before the night he had fell through the Veil. He always smelled of a heady blend of pipe tobacco, leather, and wet earth after a light rain. She wanted to smell that scent again.

“Sirius,” she whispered.

He responded immediately. Her voice prompted his feet to rapidly move towards her outstretched arms. Sirius hugged her fiercely, lifting her off of her feet and spinning her around. “Honey pot!” he greeted, with his lips shoved into her neck. It was his nick name for her.

Kingsley watched the two and was pleased that they got on; one less thing to worry about, he thought. “Well, it looks as though this is working out. I have an engagement to attend, but before I leave, I will add Sirius as a fiancé, Hermione.”

He had effectively killed the mood.

The two broke apart and gaped at the Minister of Magic. “Fiancé?” Sirius asked, his tone was more curious than offended.

“He just returned, Kingsley! You cannot possibly expect him to participate,” Hermione pleaded on his behalf.

“I do. However, this is not my doing. The Calling is a bonding ritual. Once he took action, it was a spontaneous magical connection. In effect, you are already married.”

There was nothing to be said at that point. Severus pursed his lips. Eileen eye’s bounced from Sirius to Severus to Hermione to Harry. Harry gaped, and Hermione watched as Sirius’s face lit up with a slow, but beaming smile. “Hermione Black,” he said, but was stopped when Kingsley added, “Not exactly.”

Hermione was getting more and more frustrated with Kingsley Shacklebolt, but bit her tongue to keep her from offending the Minister.

Kingsley continued, “The Recompense Bill is a new marriage law that is in effect. She took an aptitude to test her magical abilities, and the result that was that she would choose three husbands from a list of comparable magical beings. She has the list and now I need the names.” He was firm and expectant.

Hermione sighed. She really did not want to do this, but it seemed he was absolute in needing the names right this moment.

Severus was going to speak up, but he caught the subtle shake of her head and kept his counsel.

“Marcus Flint, first.”

“Second,” Sirius chirped, rather quickly.

“Second,” Hermione amended quietly, slightly embarrassed.

Severus nodded. “Marcus is a good man; strong-willed and active. Potions work was adequate.”   Hermione smiled at the measure of Marcus by Severus. Truthfully, she was intrigued that Marcus was a Seer and she remembered being slightly awe-struck at the size and sheer masculinity of the wizard when she’d last seen him.

“Antonin Dolohov.”

Hermione could feel Severus’ hesitation, and felt the needy urgency to remind her gently of the Department of Mysteries fiasco her 5th year. She remembered all that plus the fact that she was told and had witnessed how very sharp minded he was, both strategically and tactically. When he had taken hold of her during that event, he had been reciting ‘A Winter’s Tale’. She’d thought him mad at first, but then his voice and cadence of the play had hypnotized her in some way. She had joined his recitation in the end and had felt a certain disquiet at his sudden departure/escape.

Sirius did not like Antonin. He felt his heart twist at the idea of Hermione choosing the wizard as a husband. “Kitten,” he began, but stopped short at the flash in her eyes.

_This’ll be interesting_ , he thought.

“And the third?” prompted Kingsley.

“Fourth,” Sirius reminded.

Kingsley stretched his lips in irritation. “Fourth,” he confirmed.

The first indication of discord should have been the mischievous smile she was wearing, but no one, least of all Kingsley, picked up on it, save Eileen. She knew her granddaughter would not go gently into that good night.

“Draco Malfoy.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing_ **

**_**Ron_ **

Ron walked up to his room after he left Ginny in the kitchen. He was having a difficult time breathing and his muscles ached like he had been playing Quidditch for weeks nonstop. Something else was off too, but he couldn’t put a name to it. He’d felt it as soon as he had cast the spell. He knew it was a long shot that it would work, but he had put all of his angst and focus and intentions and fear into that spell right as he cast and it looked like it had worked. It had caused him to mentally rejoice that his magic was still a little bit under his control – that he still _had_ magic to control, but a second later his body had almost collapsed in fatigue, and his spell had begun to waiver.

He shook his head, and sat down. Ron heard Hermione’s voice in the back of his head telling him to research the cause and find a solution, but Ron had a solution already. He just needed to find a subject to brew the potion with Harry and cast the spell to transfer the magic. Speaking of… Ron stood then grabbed hold of the bed post; he was dizzy and plopped back down again. He was going to send a note to Harry, but that could wait. Right now, he needed to sleep. Scratch that. First, he needed to throw up then he needed to sleep.

**_**Marcus Flint_ **

The large man crashed to the floor, taking with him a small bureau and a rather expensive porcelain vase his mother had obtained in China. He held his head and tried not to scream in pain as the lightning bolt split his head in two. He vaguely heard his mother’s light footsteps come barreling around the corner and then felt her warm comfort.

The pain eased and the flash of brilliant colors and lights faded. Her hands. His mother’s healing hands were his saving grace. Together they sat on the floor a bit undignified, but neither mother nor son were bothered by it. It was their normal. Ophelia Flint rocked her son with closed eyes and a focused mind.   She was a natural healer, but her ability had been slowly becoming less and less effective. She chalked it up to age coupled with an rather brilliantly aimed curse that Gorgia Goyle had slung her way during the war; _the bint_!

Marcus’ breathing had returned to normal and he was no longer in pain.

“Thank you, mum,” he murmured.

She nodded and they stood. Marcus waved his wand and set the vase and bureau back to order. Tea was usually on the schedule when he had one of his episodes, as his father called them. The elder Flint was clearly uncomfortable with his large and strapping heir to the Flint fortune having somewhat of a _soft_ ability like Seeing. It was usually gifted to witches.

Tea arrived with a snap and Ophelia poured them both a cuppa. Marcus’ visions were never a clear picture of the future. They were more like sights, sounds feelings and inferences. Most often the two had to run through a question-answer session to understand at least a portion of the vision. It was much like a dream when one first awoke.

“Good or bad?” she asked.

He furrowed his brows. “Both… I think.”

She nodded. “One event or multiple?”

His head came up sharply. “Sirius Black is returned from the Veil,” he said with certainty.

Ophelia raised an eyebrow. Then Marcus answered her question. “Multiple, but they are all connected.”

“Who are they connected to? You?”

Marcus shook his head. “No. Hermione Granger.” That caught her attention.   Everyone had heard, of course. How the Ministry was railroading the out spoken Muggle… well, half-blood. That part made Ophelia smile. Severus had a daughter and she was smart and sassy. Karma was funny sometimes. _That will teach Severus to be snarky!_ She thought.   Her thoughts were interrupted by Marcus murmuring something about the Weasley family. “What was that, dear?”

Marcus shook his head to clear it. “Weasley. The youngest boy. The bloke Draco didn’t like.”

Ophelia knew exactly of who Marcus was speaking. Ronald Weasley. The young wizard who had been found lacking by the ley lines and stripped of his magic. That little nugget of information was shared by Narcissa Malfoy after they had been approached by Arthur and Molly. They had wanted that information to be kept close to the vest, but Narcissa was never one to keep something from her best friends. They had been through too much together to have secrets now.

“Yes. What about him?”

“He’s up to no good, mum, and I need to tell Granger, but I don’t have details and they are best mates.”

Her face softened with love and compassion for her son. For all of his reserved manner and hard exterior, he was a worry wort, and tended to over react. Ophelia patted the seat next to her, and took Marcus’ hand when he sat. “What do I always tell you, my love?”

His shoulders slumped and his lips quirked into a little smile. “Things will happen if and when they are supposed to.”

She nodded and was about to speak, but just she opened her mouth, a large eagle landed on the Juliet balcony and held out its leg. Marcus walked to it and dodged the bird trying to bite him while he took the message.   The message was from Narcissa Malfoy.

**_*Kingsley Shacklebolt_ **

“Draco Malfoy is not on your list, Hermione.”

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “So? I want him.”

Kingsley was already tense and this exchange/development vexed him further. “Draco Malfoy is not on your list!” He all but yelled.

Squaring her shoulders and stepping into Kingsley’s space, she yelled back. “I. Don’t. Care!”

“No!” he was panicking now. She looked so certain. It boggled his mind. What did she know that he didn’t? Did Arthur tell her of the life debt?

Hermione knew that his mind was going a mile a minute, but she wasn’t backing down. “You told the world that it was my choice. That each Muggleborn and Half-blood had a choice!”

“Technically Percy said that…” Harry added, but didn’t finish the sentence when he noticed that Snape, Sirius and Eileen were all looking at him like he was daft. “Not that it matters,” he mumbled.

Kingsley didn’t know whether to stay and fight or attend to his other engagement, which was rapidly becoming the more appealing option.

Hermione smirked, and stepped back. “You may go, Kingsley,” she dismissed, “but this conversation is not over.” **_* The next afternoon_**

Ginny caught her hair in her hands and heaved into the toilet. When she closed her eyes she had bits of a picture. Seeing Ron near the greenhouse; him whipping around and a feeling of fear then nothing but love for him as he put his arm around her. She felt sick and had had a headache since. She had her suspicions of what was happening but she didn’t want to admit it and she needed to bounce the idea off of someone else.

**_*The message_ **

Hermione was back at her flat, packing up. She would be moving soon and there was no time like the present to prepare. She would like to move to Prince Estates, but she wanted to understand what her future husbands wanted. She had convinced Percy to cancel the press docket announcing her chosen until she was ready to tell them herself. He had given her three days, and instructed her to resolve the “Draco Issue” with Kings.   Hermione sighed. She needed to talk to Ginny.

A small owl tapped at her window and called her attention to the treats. She smiled. _Well this is timely_ , she thought, recognizing Ginny’s owl.

_Hermione,_

_I need speak to you, and only you. I think I’ve been Obliviated…   I need help._

_Gin._

Hermione gasped and dropped the parchment into her lap, her hands still gripping the ends.

After she sent a note back, stating that she was at her flat and that Ginny should come over to help sort what clothes to keep and which to give away, she ran over to the floo and called her father. She briefly told him about Ginny and a short moment later, he stepped through.

Ten minutes later, a pretty, but sick looking red head stepped through and promptly vomited on Hermione’s hearth. Severus and Hermione caught her before she collapsed, laying her gently on the soft couch.

“Miss Weasley, Can you hear me?” Severus’ deep voice and warm hands calmed Ginny’s nerves and helped her to focus her eyes and thoughts on what he was asking. She nodded.

“Miss Weasley, I would like to look into your mind. I will be able to see if there was an Obliviate spell cast on you. Is that alright?”

Again she focused, nodded and blinked tears onto her cheeks. Ginny knew that Hermione wouldn’t have called their former professor if she didn’t trust him completely. So in her mind, she decided that she too would trust in his intentions and abilities.

“You’ll experience some pressure, but it will be alright,” he assured the small witch. “Now, open your eyes.”

As she opened her eyes, he whispered, “Legilimens!”

She didn’t fight him, but she wanted to. There was pressure – a lot of it, but it took away her nausea, so she just tried to relax.   It wasn’t long before he found what he was looking for. The spell had been cast poorly. It was just enough to make whatever memories fade away for a short time then return. However, when they returned, they were displaced, causing Ginny’s magical core to ail. As Severus explained this to both witches, he concluded, “It was a bit like a virus, corrupting your magical energy and other memories. I was able to piece together the original memory and then remove it altogether, but I am not certain you want to view it.”

There was silence and tea and shock after Severus shared what he had seen in her memories. It was after a few long moments that Ginny started to cry. She cried over being made to marry. She cried that her brother, who she loved, would betray her like this. She cried over the feeling that she couldn’t trust her parents to act for her benefit.

It was at that point that Hermione turned to Severus and asked, “What happens when you have two competing life debts?”

**_*Conversations with the Minister the next day_ **

Hermione, Ginny and Severus sat patiently in the Minister’s office. Hermione squeezed Ginny’s hand. “Are you feeling better?”

Ginny smiled and nodded. “100 times better. And I’m out for blood!” The girls smiled at each other and Severus inhaled.

Kingsley walked in, with his normal confident stride. When he noticed who was waiting for him, he slowed and his air of confidence waivered. “Hermione. Miss Weasley. Severus. How may I assist you?”

Ginny stood. She felt better delivering her news while standing. “I won’t be marrying Malfoy.” Kingsley sighed, and Hermione thought he looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. “You are. You do not have a choice. Hermione cannot marry him; you must.”

He looked at Severus for help, but none came. “No. You owe me a life debt, Kings. And I owe Hermione one.”

Kingsley was defeated and only pleaded, “What do you want of me? I will die!”

That’s when Severus spoke. “No, you won’t. You must complete as much of the original debt agreement as you are able to, which exempts the Weasley family from this marriage law and honoring your agreement with the Malfoy’s not to charge them if they establish a contract with a witch of your choice. You may feel a bit fatigued for a short time, but it will pass.” No one but Hermione heard him add the words, “ _in theory_ ” to his statement. She shook her head and gave a silent prayer to any Gods that were listening that Kingsley didn’t die.

Kingsley nodded and as he agreed the magic circled the four of them. “Now what?” he asked.

Ginny perked up. “Now, I try out for the Holyhead Harpies and Hermione marries Draco Malfoy.”

Hermione smiled and said, “I’m ready to meet my future husbands and their families. Let’s give notice and reschedule the press conference.”

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

 

_Lady Malfoy,_

_My current situation warrants a bit of an … unanticipated alliance._

_Regards,_

_Hermione Granger_

**_OoO_ **

_Lady Flint,_

_The winds of change are upon us._

_With love,_

_Cissy_

**_OoO Sirius Black_ **

Sirius wanted nothing more than to leave this place. He wanted comfortable leather chairs, and low light. He wanted heavy curtains and crystal decanters of whiskey ready and waiting. He wanted his soon-to-be-wife next to him, and he wanted, above all, quiet. This… This was antithesis of calm and quiet; it was a ruckus. Reporters were barking orders, Hermione was fidgeting, Kingsley was growling, and the general populace were gawking. They were gawking at him, at her, at his fellow comrades in marriage law, and at Harry. Sirius mentally raised a brow. He wondered why Harry and the some of the Weasley’s were even up here for this. It had little to do with any of them. He cast an eye towards the youngest son of Arthur; Ronald. The boy was absolutely seething… _at him_. It made Sirius sneer in response, and he had to squash the urge to assert himself as Alpha here, though he wasn’t sure why.

His gaze returned to Hermione. She was young. He felt a pang in his chest. A shadow moved in his periphery; Severus. Sirius turned his head and was not surprised to see his school nemesis blazing a fire directed at him, his glowering was so intense. Sirius twitched his lips and moved his hand to engulf Hermione’s smaller ones. He softened his expression for his fiancée/wife, projecting an intention of comforting her rather than goading her father. When Hermione smiled at him then looked away, Sirius cut his eyes over to Severus and watched the wizard’s expression darken. It went far in lightening Sirius’ mood, he smiled and squeezed Hermione’s hand.

The “announcement” continued.

**_OoO Antonin Dolohov_ **

Seated like a statue, Antonin Dolohov hadn’t moved an inch since he’d sat down; back straight, hands on knees, feet flat, chin up, and eyes forward. He was currently wrapping his mind around this marriage law, and the fact that he was being forced to be some witch’s husband... Well, it was a role that he did not take lightly. There was a reason that he had not married thus far – he did not want to be responsible for another human being. Now, he was responsible for not only this chit of a girl, but her other husbands as well. He mentally nodded his head. It was Karma, he thought miserably. When he finally married, it wasn’t to a witch who would dedicate her life to him. No. It was to a witch who was being forced to marry multiple wizards because she was so powerful. A witch who was famous for her wit and cleverness. A witch who infamous for her misbehavior and vocalizing her opinions on …everything! He sighed. She was the child whom he had cast against some time ago in the Department of Mysteries.

Antonin knew that she would not obey him without an explanation. She would not bend to his will simply because he was her wizard. No. He would have to cajole and woo and explain.

He would be wretched.

As if that were not bad enough, he would be mates with Sirius fucking Black, who just because he fought against a certain brand of tyranny and just because he was an Auror, didn’t mean he wasn’t dark. He came from darkness. And madness. And hate. The most ancient and noble house of Black was indeed the oldest pureblood family, but in-breeding had its consequences, and madness was only the tip of the iceberg.

Still… the girl was pretty. And because she was smart, he would be able to have an intellectual conversation with her, he supposed. Her magic was strong, obviously. Though, he hadn’t had the chance to speak with the Granger… Sna-Prince girl yet, but he resigned himself to his fate and would work towards some semblance of congruence.

**_OoO Draco Malfoy_ **

He was getting married. He was getting married to Granger. Draco smirked arrogantly when he realized why he was there. She _wanted_ him. Had asked for him specifically. He had always known that she had wanted him. All those times he had caught her staring. Yes. He knew now. It all made sense. Making eye contact with his father, he quickly dropped the smirk and returned to stoic. In his mind, though, he smiled.

**_OoO Ron Weasley_ **

He knew what he needed to do, as he stared over at the two. It was obvious. Looking over at Harry, he knew they had to act fast. Ron could barely stand for more than a minute these days. It was a chore just getting out of bed in the morning. His mum had Glamoured him today, so he wouldn’t look so sickly. She was embarrassed enough that his magic had dwindled, but now his soul was fading and she couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t wait. It must be done in the coming days. He wondered briefly where Ginny had gone off too, and worried a bit that she had retrieved her memories, but he was certain that he would have been standing tall in front of the Wizengamot by now if that were the case.

He’d meet up with Harry right after this.

**_OoO Ophelia Flint_ **

He looks so nervous. Her eyes darted to Hermione Granger-Snape-Prince. Sirius was holding her hand; his thumb rubbing back and forth, comforting the girl. Ophelia sighed. Her boy was not the only one who was nervous. Ophelia took the moment to really take note of Severus’ daughter. She was pretty. Not in any conventional sense, but her eyes were intelligent and her skin was clear and healthy. She was athletic looking, tall and slender. Ophelia’s eyes jumped to Hermione’s hands. Long fingers and feminine wrists; Ophelia thought they were fit for piano playing - like Severus’. She looked at her son again, and watched him watch Hermione. She could tell he liked what he saw, but Marcus was a sensitive soul; practical and deliberate, he would not be impulsive when it came to Hermione. Marcus turned his head slightly and twitched his lips to his mother.

**_OoO Marcus Flint_ **

He’d been caught. He really couldn’t tear his eyes away from Hermione’s beautiful hair. It was wild in school, but now it seemed she’d grown into it and he wanted to touch it… and her.

**_OoO Lucius Malfoy_ **

Draco needs to keep it together. _Look at him grinning like a buffoon! GAH!_

**_OoO Harry Potter_ **

Now that Sirius is back, we can have a real relationship. I need to figure out a time to talk about my parents and Azkaban and the Marauders. It will be great. We can hang out all the time. We’ll need to fix up Grimmauld Place. Hermione was able to unstick the portrait, but the house itself needs a good washing.

Harry caught the movement of Ron’s chin out of the corner of his eyes and took a quick breath in surprise at the sheer hatred he saw on his best friend’s face. His heart sank and Harry promised himself to talk to Ron about the plan. There had to be another way.

****

**_OoOoO_ **

“…You can read more in the leaflets being passed around. If you have questions, please direct them to Mavis Rookwood. Her contact information is on the leaflets. Now, without further ado, please let me introduce Lady Prince’s , a.k.a. Hermione Granger, husbands.”

Kingsley shifted to whisper to the wizards seated. “As I call your name, please stand.”

“Sirius Black.” Oohs, and ahs and eventual ovation.

“Antonin Dolohov.” Crickets.

“Draco Malfoy.” Strong clapping by Lucius, which slowly faded away once he realized he was alone in his applause. He stopped clapping altogether, but nodded firmly to his son, who now looked forlorn.

“Marcus Flint.” A collective gasp at his size then intermittent clapping.

Hermione just wanted to get the hell out of there and talk to her grandma-ma and her father. Everyone else could sod off for the time being.

The crowd started to disperse and Hermione practically ran off stage with her grandmother, Eileen Prince. Severus followed closely, with Sirius not far behind. Her other chosen stood watching the witch, who would be their wife Disapparate with a pop. Severus eyed Sirius for a split second as his lips twitched in a smug expression before he too disappeared.

Sirius was left annoyed, mildly bereft and accepting the challenge that Severus had just issued. He turned back to the others and sighed, only slightly embarrassed that he had been left behind.

Marcus and Draco were standing near to one another, hands in pockets and watching hesitantly as the two older wizards sized each other up. It was Dolohov who spoke first. In spite of their past, he made the decision to work towards harmony instead of discord, but he had to tread lightly, Sirius Black was infamously emotionally immature.

“Veel like pint, Black?” Antonin asked, his voice deep and accent thick.

Sirius paused then nodded, openly accepting the olive branch. He then chinned towards the other two and Harry as if to ask what they would do with the children.

Dolohov swiveled around to raise an eyebrow to the youth. “Ve teach dem ‘ow men drink, yes!” it was not a question, but a declaration.

Sirius smiled then and nodded. “Yes, brother.”

**_OoO_ **

Ron watched as Harry slung his arm around Sirius, and the five of them Disapparate; they never even looked his way.

Arthur climbed on stage and helped his son stand. “Ready, son?”

Ron nodded and braced himself for the nauseating trip back to the Burrow, and hating that he needed help.

That night Ron did something he had rarely done in the past; he researched. He pulled every book he could find on magical transference and ley lines. Ron comes across some interesting information that involves the three Fates, who weave the tapestry of life. He reads further and wonders if in their measure, he has fallen short and that is why his magic was taken from him. He must prove himself worthy of his magic to gain it back.   To this he infers that he must complete the spell, and potion for magical transference successfully and only then will the Fates pass judgment.

Unlocking the wooden box hidden under his bed, he pulls out a small fortune of Galleons that he has been saving throughout the years. He has a vault that the Ministry offers a stipend to, but he doesn’t want to access that as of yet. A parchment and quill later, he whistles to their owl and sends the letter. He also write another note to Harry; and waits.

**_OoO_ **

Well into the night, the moon was high and the wizards were pissed.

“No, no, no, Black. Karkorov vas veak, like kitten. He vas dumb. I vas not so gullible to haff confidence in the concept of magic-stealing Mudbloods. Absurd.”

They had all delved into the war and allegiances and Dark Lords. It was a dangerous conversation to have when inhibitions were lowered and masculinity was high.

Dolohov was explaining that Karkarov did not give orders to anyone, and why. Sirius interrupted his explanation, though did not bat an eyelash regarding the language spoken between them. “Then why, mate? Why fight? You scarred our wife. Do you remember?” Sirius shook his head and continued. “Children. You fought against children.”

It was not a proud moment for Antonin, but he did want to make them understand that he did not have a choice, or at least much of one. “That… vas a mistake; one that I am ashamed off. The Dark Lord took our money, and had scribes re-write the stories of our families. The Dolohov’s are a proud line – as proud as the Ancient and Noble House of Black. I could not allow our name to be cast in shadow, and our family vealth be diminished vithout vord! I haff no brother to carry on the line, so I could vight vith you! My grandfather vas alife and … I vas told he did not haff chance to keep alife if I did not comply.” The last was said quietly and with enough regret to sober the men.

“You have a brother now, Antonin,” Sirius said, clasping the man on his shoulder. The Marcus and Draco followed suit, if not as graceful – they were near passing out, but the sentiment was the same.

Harry watched and wished and coveted. He wanted this, but it still felt as if there was a barrier separating him from his Godfather and these other wizards. His attention shifted when the owl he recognized as the Weasley’s came flying in, dodging drunken hands grabbing for its legs.

Marcus flicked a peanut towards it when it landed on the table and Harry took the note.

Paling as he read it, he knew he had to do something, but he wasn’t certain what that something was: betray his best friend and the family he had come to love or tell Hermione and figure out another way.

“You alright there, Potty?” Draco asked then shared a snicker with Flint at calling the boy-who-lived _Potty_.

Harry’s fragile ego and sensitive nature did not allow him to understand the nature of drunken former school nemesis teasing. He immediately felt angry. Gritting his teeth when he realized Sirius was grinning at the dig too, he stood. “I have to go.” Making a split decision, he inhaled. “Sirius, I need your help.”

Sirius was ready to go anyway. This was enough emotion to last a lifetime. He nodded and made his way to follow his Godson. As he ducked under the low exit to get out the door, he didn’t see Harry poised and certainly didn’t expect the Stunner to hit its mark. The world faded to black as the last thing Sirius Black remembered was the nauseating feeling of Apparation.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Hermione sneered and threw down the paper in disgust. Severus picked it up and read the headline. It was appalling.

Over and over again, the picture replayed the scene: Kingsley snapping someone’s wand. It was overdramatic. The large wizard had made a show of lifting his knee to snap the slender piece of wood.

_Minister of Magic snaps wand as Nott Family Scion, Theodore Nott Jr., refuses to comply with Recompense Bill_

Severus ground his teeth and breathed in through his nose. He looked over at his daughter and knew that his face mirrored hers. “How could they?” she asked. “He is my age and the last of his family. How will he survive in Muggle London with no memories, no education, no skills and a complete lack of understanding of the culture?”

Severus could only watch as she raged on about the injustice of it. He must have zoned out, because he was jolted back to her reality when Hermione took hold of his arms, quite firmly, and invaded is personal space. “We must do something!” Carefully, as not to upset her further – _he just did not like to be touched_ , he extricated himself from her hold and walked to pour them both some tea. “A Ministry takeover is what you are proposing?”

Hermione blinked at him then smiled. “I am flattered you think I can manage a coup, but I was thinking more along the lines of seeing to Theo. Maybe we can figure out where those funds are going, and I have some knowledge in recovering memories. Perhaps we can see about reversing the Obliviate.”

At that point, Eileen had walked in. “We are in a unique position to assist the rebellion, with the active smuggling of Obliviated Purebloods! We could consider ourselves an underground rail of sorts!” She was excited by the prospect and Hermione shared in her energy. Severus pursed his lips, but he didn’t say no.

By lunch, the three had worked out a rough sketch of the concept; what they had access to regarding resources, evaluated any weaknesses in the plan and strengths. They were currently at a crossroads concerning the inclusion of purebloods that would be complicit with the new Bill, but didn’t want to. Would the trio help those purebloods ‘escape’, as it were?

Hermione was against the idea of helping anyone _escape_ , and wanted to limit their efforts to those who had already fallen victim. Severus was in agreement, but Eileen wanted to offer a way out before it came to wand snapping, Obliviation, and disbursement of funds. She was a force.

Eileen touched Hermione’s arm gently, and planted a seed of doubt. “Not that you are not as talented as I know you to be, my dear, but what if the memory recovery effort does not meet our expectations? Memories are tricky.” Both Severus and Hermione had to concede the point. St. Mungos had been working on revearsals for decades with no proven method. It really depended on the intricacy of the spell itself as it was cast.

So Hermione called for break to think each side over, with a walk in the gardens. Before she walked out, she turned to Severus. “Have you seen Sirius or Harry today?”

It struck him odd now that she had asked.

Severus frowned. “No.”

Hermione frowned.

Eileen raised an eyebrow.

This wasn’t good.

Severus had a bad feeling. The mutt had been a constant presence since his re-emergence and now hadn’t shown his face all day.

His thoughts made a verbal escape as he included his mother and his daughter in the tail end of the mental conversation. “Even when he got pissed, he was up early the next day…”

An hour later found the three, once again, in the library.

Hermione sighed. She’d physically looked in every part of the house, to no avail. It was Eileen who suggested that Hermione Call him. “You are bonded. Focus on that bond and trace it to his magic. You should be able to feel if he is well or not.” Eileen whispered the last two words; she hoped he was well, but had a sneaking suspicion that he was not. Mother and son shared a foreboding look before Hermione closed her eyes to concentrate.

OoO

Sirius opened his eyes then slammed them shut a nanosecond later. His head was splitting, and his arms and hands hurt like the devil. He took a deep breath then stopped; it smelled like rubbish. He felt his fingers tingle and peaked open his eyes. The image was blurry, but he knew it to be a woman. “Hermione?”

The image stopped for a second and he heard her snort. “Not quite.”

Sirius blinked again and opened his eyes a little further. He gritted his teeth against the pain in his head. He didn’t recognize the woman, and he didn’t recognize the room, but he did recognize his Godson. “Harry?”

The boy nodded, and looked away from the piercing gray eyes of his father’s best friend. That’s when Sirius realized the gravity of his situation. Whatever Harry had planned, he was going to go through with it no matter the cost.

“Harry, whatever you’ve got yourself into, we can talk about it. You don’t have to do this.” Sirius spoke calmly and confidently. He thought for a second that it worked, as the boy perked up and met the earnestness with a hopeful expression. A moment later, the woman cast a _Silencio_ and the room was once again quiet. Harry’s head dropped in despair.

Sirius swallowed his fear and waited until the woman was done siphoning his blood. She was chanting some spell that made him feel wonky, like he was having an out of body experience. He had felt similarly before. He didn’t want to remember, but his mind went to that place; the place where Dementors reigned and the souls of the forgotten were tormented. Sirius closed his eyes and willed away the desperation.

Another person entered. Sirius recognized Ronald Weasley as he hobbled in the door. He was surprised to see the boy with dark circles under his eyes and his clothes hanging off of his tall, but hunched body. He looked sick. Then Sirius understood, Weasley’s soul was dying because he had lost his magic, and they were going to perform a transference.

“Nooooo,” Sirius pleaded and took in a breath so large it stuck in his throat.

He was lost to the conversation that ensued.

Ron plopped down next to Harry and took his hand. “Thank you, Harry. This means so much to me.”

“Will – Will this kill him… Sirius, I mean?” Harry asked, near tears.

The woman spoke and it straightened Harry’s spine. “Eventually, yes. You are taking his magic, what do you expect?”

Harry frowned and felt immediate anger. “Who are you?”

Ron answered. “Rolenna Yaxley.” At Harry’s horrified expression, Ron quickly explained further, “Her mother was a Prewitt. I needed her to help me brew the potion and to combine her magic with yours to complete the ritual.”

Harry paused then stood and looked at his longtime friend. “No,” he asserted, “I changed my mind. I’m not doing this. Sorry, but we’ll have to figure out another way.”

Ron shot up so quickly it knocked Harry back a step. “THERE IS NO OTHER WAY, HARRY!”

Rolenna waved her wand and locked them both in a _Petrificus Totalus_. “Sit down and shut up, boys. Time’s a wasting and no one is going anywhere.”

She started chanting again and when her voice rose, Sirius could feel the pressure of his magic trying to liberate from his body; trying to rip free from his soul.

His body jerked violently at the onslaught of her magic.

Before he blacked out, he heard the door bang open and shouting then nothing.

OoO

Hermione, Severus, and Lucius Malfoy walked slowly down the sidewalk of the poor part of London. It wreaked of human urine and rotting food. The noise of mechanisms of industrial factories was loud enough to quell any desire to think independently. All three magical beings scowled the entire time they walked.

Hermione was listening to her ‘radar’. They were getting warmer and when she felt an uncomfortable spike in his magic, she turned down an alley way and entered a door that was crookedly hanging off its hinges.

“Don’t touch anything unless you cast a _Scourgify_ , twice,” Lucius suggested with a disgusted tone to match his disgusted expression. Both Severus and his daughter nodded their agreement and walked up the stairs to the second landing. Hermione tensed and looked at Severus. It was then that they heard faint chanting. Whoever cast the Silencing Charm did not do a very good job.

After several attempts at opening the door quietly and with magic, Severus acted. He physically kicked the door in. It crashed open and Lucius disarmed and incapacitated the woman.

Hermione only cast a confused cursory glance at Harry then focused her attention to the man on the table. “What do I do?” She was panicking now, in tears, shaking the sleeping wizard. Lucius took note of the surrounding and knew what needed to be done.

“They were removing his magic. Perhaps to transfer it to Mr. Weasley, here.”

Hermione was a frazzled and angry mess, so she turned on the regal and calm man. “Well spotted, Mr. Malfoy, but how do I fix it?” she snapped, with venom and a sense of urgency.

Severus stepped up after checking on the two dunderheads currently immobilized. “A spell, to return what was lost.”

Hermione knew that spell, but she needed help. She turned begging eyes to her father, and not long after, he nodded his acquiescence. She then silently asked for Lucius’ help. After a huff of impatience, he, too, nodded. Grasping hands and calling to the core of their magic; together, they returned the essence of Sirius Black to its rightful owner, effectively condemning Ronald Weasley to his fate.

The handsome gray eyes opened with a sigh. He had expected to see his lady love, but instead looked to the inside of black eyes the color of death.

“They are not the color of death, Black, though I guess you would know, wouldn’t you?” Severus remarked, pursing his lips, and kicking himself for helping to bring the mutt back.

“I said that aloud, did I?” Sirius smiled a little and looked around. They were home.

He felt a soft touch; a small hand slide into his. Turning his head, he nearly cried. “Hermione,” he whispered.

She nodded, but couldn’t speak. With tears streaming down her face, she hugged him. “I thought we had lost you again!” she wailed into his chest. He patted her awkwardly. Wailing witches were not his specialty, but he understood in this instance. “I’m here now, kitten.”

Once she got herself under control, she lifted up and took a deep breath. Meeting his stare, she knew his next question.

“He’s in jail. I will visit him later, but right now he can sit and rot for all I care!” she hissed then softened. “I will visit him tomorrow,” she amended and thought about her best friend for a second. She could not imagine what Harry was thinking in doing this.

“And the Weasley?” he asked, only mildly curious. He’d never like the youngest Weasley boy… or Percy for that matter, but that was neither here nor there.

Hermione went on to pour him some tea and speak about Rolenna Yaxley and her fate. Sirius was only half listening; he preferred to just stare at her and thank the Gods that he was alive, with a wonderful wife, and had his magic. Life was good.

OoO

Arthur leaned the shovel against the shed and surveyed his work. It was dug the Muggle way and in that, he took pride. It was a surreal feeling when he reminded himself what it was for.

He was both resolute and saddened. He knew there was no other way around it; this had to be done. He looked over at his wife. “Mollykins, don’t cry.”

She nodded and blew her nose. She agreed this had to be done.

They both heard the back door slam shut and looked over to see Ginny helping Ron to walk. He was shaking his head but Ginny was determined and didn’t stop until they reached their parents.

Ron looked around after he had plopped down on the ground. “What’s this?”

Arthur sighed. “It’s for you, son. We love you, you should know.” Molly cried into the handkerchief and Ginny was silent.

Ron’s eyes lit up with understanding. “No!” He only had time to skitter to the side, before Arthur pulled his wand. “ _Avada Kedavra_!”  

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I own nothing

**_Misdeeds_ **

Harry sat slumped on the hard cot. He was in a holding cell, waiting for formal charges to be brought. The cell was small and cold and hard. Each wall was made from concrete and what he assumed was the outside wall, was made of stone. Even the door was a heavy cement-looking wall, with a small square window two feet from the top. Though, it was taller than Harry was, so he couldn’t be sure of exact placement. There were no windows and it was cold. Not the kind of cold that hits you in the face outside on a blustery winter’s day. No. This kind of cold seeps into your body to bury itself deep in your bones. It was the kind of cold that didn’t go away. He was trying hard not to shiver or cry, for that matter. He looked for a blanket or covering of some kind, but all he found was a scrap of material that smelled like it had been worn by a corpse. He opted to leave it where it was.

He could not believe what he had done – and to his Godfather of all people. He was beside himself with guilt. He had no way to make up for this…

As he sat alone in the small cell and he felt the hopelessness of his childhood return. His nights spent under the stairs by himself, and the days doing ‘chores’, but everyone ignoring him –they didn’t even look at him.

Harry remembered Dudley being slapped in the face for looking over at him once during dinner, while he was in the kitchen. After that, Dudley didn’t acknowledge Harry’s presence unless they were out, away from their house. Then it was just mean words and harsh actions.

Taking in a deep, ragged breath, Harry thought about his life. Ever since he could remember, he had felt isolated in some way. In school, he had been teased by the other children and the teacher, because of his old, tattered, and too-big clothes. At home, his aunt and uncle would tell him of their sacrifices they made to raise him up and what a black sheep his mother had been. Harry now understood why she had said it, but it didn’t make the hurt any better. At Hogwarts, he’d been the ‘Chosen One’.

Hermione had once shared her armchair psychology analysis of the impact of his childhood and at the time he thought she was dead wrong. He now realized what he hadn’t wanted to admit, that she was right.   He had so desperately latched on to Mrs. Weasley’s kindness and Arthur’s willingness to include Harry into the family, that Harry couldn’t see right from wrong when it came to them. Harry had scoffed, then became angry. He actually accused Hermione of being jealous! She had reacted with a deep sigh and a sad expression that Harry now recognized as pity then went back into the tent.

She’d been right. And because he’d couldn’t see right from wrong, he had betrayed his godfather. He had actually broken the law! And now Sirius and Hermione would hate him, he would be sent to Azkaban, and Ron would die. Fine mess he found himself in. The world would be better without him in it.

Harry raised his face to the ceiling; his eyes were still closed as that thought took root. The world would be better off without him in it.

**_OoO_ **

Molly was strangely calm; at peace. She knew, deep in her soul that she and Arthur had done the right thing.

The house was quiet; the only sounds were the clock ticking and the dishes being magically washed with the sponge. Molly sat, with a sigh, and cast a quick spell for tea. She stretched her lips in irony; it was one that the Hermione had told Molly about one summer. Hermione had shared it like a peace offering; an olive branch if you will. Molly had reacted like it was a spell that she’d already known, and had abandoned early in life because it was frowned upon for a proper English woman to not make her tea manually. She remembered frowning at the girl and conjuring her best condescending voice to _thank_ the uppity girl, and to confirm that her tea was fine just the way she’d been making it.

It had worked. Hermione’s cheeks had flared red and she’d walked away, shoulders hunched just a bit. The truth was that Molly was embarrassed about being schooled by the younger and Muggleborn witch. Sighing once more, Molly felt ashamed at the way she had responded to Hermione’s new spell. She could have smiled and tried it, which would have strengthened a bond between the two witches, but instead Molly had consciously made Hermione feel small.

Another turn of the spoon and Molly was sipping her tea, quietly recalling recent events. Her youngest son was dead. By her hand – well, Arthur’s really, but may as well have been her wand. Ronald had lost his magic. She and Arthur just could not face the troubles and anguish that would come soon enough. They were already witnessing the deterioration of his mind; the delusion. Arthur and she had been both surprised by Ronald’s strength of will to persuade Harry and the witch to help him steal another’s magic, but to actually persist in doing it… Molly shook her head. She knew if he hadn’t lost his magic, he would have been something great.

As a child, Molly had watched as her great aunt Matilda, her grandmother Ginerva’s sister, sink deeper and deeper into madness. Matilda’s failing mind and body after she had lost her magic was both harsh and heart breaking. None of the family spoke Matilda’s name and they had kept her away from most, but Molly had been one of the few to help care for the crazed woman.

Matilda was decrepit most of the time, but had acted aggressively on some occasions. Molly remembered the woman being strapped to the bed and force fed by her father, after the last of four escapes from the home. Matilda had been found the last time, at a brothel, raising her skirts to anyone who would look. They took her away in a violent disapparation after she punched an Auror in the nose for telling her to put her skirts down.

Matilda’s death had been lengthy and painful. She’d barely been able to catch her breath. Molly would never forget the gurgling of what sounded like a drowning animal that Matilda made. Matilda had had a short lucid moment near the end, where her eyes cleared and she cried that Molly should be merciful and kill her quickly. Molly’s father shook his head and placed a kiss on her forehead.

It had taken another day for Matilda to die. It had been both a relief for those who cared for her and an event worth mourning. Molly was determined that her Ronald would not meet that same fate.   Arthur and she had taken measures to ensure he didn’t suffer any longer, and that he would be with his family forever.

Molly’s mind cleared, her tea cup empty; it was time to start dinner. Arthur would be home soon. As she rose up and began preparations, she looked out the kitchen window to the place where her Ronald rested. Breathing in a rejuvenating breath, she nodded in confirmation, that she had indeed made the right choice.

**_OoO_ **

Hermione had been feeling overwhelmed and close to hyperventilation for the past 24 hours. So much had happened in the course of a fortnight that she really hadn’t had time to process any of the events. When she was very young, she had had trouble dealing with stress. It would make her physically sick and her mood would become depressed and angry. As she grew up, Hogwarts had offered her solace in a kinship with the professors and comfort in the library where she could explore and research and learn in the quiet of the large chamber. When the trio left her seventh year, she had felt a certain amount of anxiety to be expected, but since they had been physically moving and running and actively using their magic, she had felt energized and peacefully tired. Connecting the dots, she concluded that physical exertion helped her to work through her anxiety and made her feel good physically. She realized her souring mood was due to only worry and no workout.

It was early morning and Sirius was safe. She still hadn’t visited Harry, but that would come later this afternoon. The sun had just risen and she could feel that the air was light and breezy – perfect for a morning run.

Donning her running gear and swiftly exiting the manor, so as not to disturb her grandmother, father, or Sirius, she apparated right as she met the boundary line.

Literally, hitting the ground running, she used up every ounce of nervous energy over the next hour and a half. She had run and sprinted and jogged and felt great. As she rounded the last leg of her route, she waved to a familiar jogger then found a spot to Disapparate back to her flat to get clothes and clean up then over to her grandmothers. As she walked to the apparition point, she thought she felt like someone was watching her, but when she turned around, she didn’t see anyone. A little shiver went down her spine as she took one more look around before Disapparating.

**_OoO_ **

Severus and Hermione stood stalk still in front of the desk of the current Azkaban warden. He was a hard man, who looked like he’d had a hard life, but seemed reasonable enough to allow the two a few minutes with Harry Potter.

“To be honest, Miss, I was shocked to hear that the young lad was involved and not a victim.” The warden shook his head and tsked with pity.

“People do strange things when they are desperate,” Severus commented in a way that oddly consoled the warden.

“Thank you, Warden Pulgar, for letting us see him.”

Pulgar nodded and walked to a tall thin door. Waving his wand, it clicked and he pulled it open. He yelled down the corridor that civilians were coming and to open the second gate. “Here to see Potter!”

There were two bangs on the wall in response, and the warden opened the door wider for them to pass.

**_OoO_ **

“Are you ready for this?” her father asked.

Hermione nodded and took in a deep breath. “Yes. He’s all alone… again-“

“Of his own doing, Hermione,” Severus reminded, rather stiffly.

She touched his hand gently and his face softened just a bit. “I know.”

Knocking twice the opening the heavy door, they paused at the entrance. Hermione poked her head around the door as she called, “Harry?”

Moving fully in the room, her eyes widened. “NOOO!!!”

**_OoO_ **

Antonin did not like being caught off guard nor did he appreciate being surprised by people. He was about to be married to a young witch who he knew next to nothing about. Of course he knew her reputation, he knew what the posts described and he could deduce that she was studious, loyal and brave. However, he didn’t _know_ her. So he did the only thing he knew would answer the questions about her. He watched unawares. He watched her habits and her comings and goings. He watched the things she laughed at and the things that made her frown. He watched the people around her and how they reacted to her. He made note of every date and appointment, of every doctor, and bank visit, and shopping trip. He noted what she wore, the size of her clothes and averaged the cost of what she spent on herself.   He looked through her rubbish and knew when she was menstruating and how she interacted with people during that time.

He took up running because of her and generally enjoyed doing it. He had begun to run on his own, outside of his stalking.

He paused one day, at the tail end of a three week’s long sojourn into her life, to second guess his happenings and ponder how it would look to his soon-to-be-wife.   He hesitated long enough, with his internal voice, to decide on keeping his information gathering activities to himself.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Hermione watched in horror as the Azkaban Medi-witch cast multiple spells, stabilizing Harry and laying him flat. The bleeding had stopped and the color to his skin had returned, but his breathing was still shallow and Hermione didn’t think he was out of the woods just yet.

The Medi Witch finally looked at the pair and sighed. “He’ll make it, but he will need care and supervision. If you are not willing or not able to provide the required care, I will have to admit him to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungos.”

Hermione spoke at once, without thought as to how her father may feel about it. “Of course. Of course he will move in with me and I will care for him as long as he needs.” Her words were rushed. The tears on her face were still coming and her face was blotchy and red from the intense emotion of it all.

The Medi Witch stood then and gave Hermione a sympathetic look. “He’ll need counseling, dear. Magic and friendship cannot fix everything.”

“Yes, I can arrange for that with some help. I can do research.” Severus squeezed her shoulders, indicating she needed to listen rather than speak.

The Medi Witch kindly smiled. “You will need support too, dear.” She then looked to Severus, who had been a classmate of hers.

“Severus, will you help? He looked affronted, but then understood and tried not to sneer. “Without question, Medi Grant. My mother as well. We will move Mr. Potter to Prince Estates. I will brew his potions personally.”

Hermione turned to face her father with surprised and grateful eyes. “Thank you,” she cried and fell into his arms.  

He must have made a face, because the Medi Witch snorted with humor at the situation and he ended up patting Hermione’s shoulder awkwardly.

Hermione pulled herself together and looked at Harry. She gasped in surprise to find his eyes open and watching the exchange. There was such sadness in the depth of the green that it made her heart break for him. “We’ll get through this together, Harry, okay?” she asked, gently touching his hand.

A tear slid down his temple as he blinked and he squeezed her hand. “Yes,” he whispered, and closed his eyes, letting the sleeping stasis take over.

Medi Grant touched Hermione’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “I will Apparate him out now, and we’ll meet you tomorrow morning at St. Mungos.”

As the Medi Witch moved closer to Harry, Hermione panicked. “Wait! You said you weren’t going to admit him!” She accused.

Patiently, Medi Witch explained. “He requires an overnight stay for observation by a Healer. Once they assess him, they will write up a plan for recovery to which you will agree to carry out and he will be released.”

Severus spoke first and pulled Hermione into a side hug. “Thank you, Medi Grant.”

She nodded and waved her wand. A second later they disappeared, leaving Hermione feeling cold and guilty and angry.

OoO

Once home, and after having a long discussion with Eileen, the three of them had a plan for care at Prince Estates.

Hermione’s grandmother was going to hire a Care Elf and tasked the existing elves with preparing Harry’s room.

Severus would write up a release statement to the press as Harry was the Savior of the Wizarding World and their beloved son, so there would be a huge media frenzy surrounding it. Severus was also responsible for invoking an Unplottable Charm on the property, so it was no longer visible to anyone unless specifically invited.

After that was decided, Hermione pulled Sirius into the conversation and told him that Harry had tried to take his own life. It was the first time that she had ever seen Sirius Black demonstrate any emotion that could be remotely construed as vulnerable.

She had taken his hands in hers for support and now she was gritting her teeth as he was squeezing her hands tightly in an effort to contain himself. She noticed that he was blinking rapidly also, but did not comment.

“…but he’s alive?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. We will most likely be able to bring him home tomorrow morning. He will stay here during his recovery and after if he wants. I think he needs to be around people who don’t want any thing for him except his well-being.”

Sirius agreed and voiced his concern over the Weasely’s and what were they going to do with Ronald.

Severus stepped inside the room to let them know that Kingsley was here to deliver some news, though he didn’t know what.

The Minister walked in with a dire expression and the bottom of Hermione’s stomach dropped. “Minister. Won’t you sit?” Eileen greeted and offered, following Kingsley in the den.

“No. I wanted to share this information personally,” he said, looking directly at Sirius and Hermione.

There was a pause pregnant with tension as Kingsley mentally figured out how to say what he was about to say. Finally, the silence ended and he blurted it out. “Ronald Weasley has expired. We don’t know how, but we know he is no longer living. My guess is that after all the energy he expended trying to transfer your magic to him, that his soul faded away, but the Ministry scroll that came, alerting us to the demise of a magical being, was abrupt, as if it weren’t natural.”

Hermione had plopped down on the plush chair and silently stared in shock and dismay at what had occurred over the last 48 hours. She couldn’t believe that Ronald, someone she’d spent so much time liking and disliking, was dead. There wasn’t a childhood memory, from her inception into the magical world, that didn’t involve him in one way or another.

And Harry… He was recovering from a suicide attempt. _How in the bloody hell did this life become so buggered?_ She wondered.

Kingsley was still watching her. She looked up and felt herself say, in a wooden voice, “Harry tried to commit suicide today. We got to him in time and he is now at St. Mungos. He’ll be here tomorrow morning to begin his recovery.” Kingsley didn’t seem at all surprised and commented to the like. “I always wondered if he had someone to talk to about his childhood, the pressure, the war.” He sighed then pursed his lips together. “I’m glad that he has you.” With a sad shake of his head, he said goodbye and left. He paused at the exit and looked like he wanted to say something more, but changed his mind at the last minute. Severus was certain that he wanted to remind Hermione about the marriage law and that time was running out. When he turned around, Hermione was watching him and nodded her head. She was aware.

Sirius watched the exchange and felt both sad and stressed out for Hermione. He’d never really liked Ronald and he really thought the boy got what he deserved after what he tried to do, but he knew that she would take it to heart.

Sirius was a bit vindictive sometimes, and he was perfectly comfortable with that about himself.

Severus, felt similarly to Sirius, and didn’t put any more emotion than absolutely necessary. He was nearly certain that it was the Weasely matriarch who facilitated it.  

They had dinner together and then went to their rooms for the night. It had been a trying few hours, and each needed some time to process the events. The mood in the room was morose.

OoO

The morning started with a flurry of activity. The House elves had been aware of the comings and goings and who was what and what was who. Overnight, they had prepared the adjacent room to Hermione’s for Harry. Their loos had an interconnecting door, so they could move in and out if they wanted to.

Hermione had been pleased with the development and decided that she would start the day with a good run. It always improved her mood and made her feel like she could take on the world. When she returned, she was surprised to see her fiancés present and accounted for. Breakfast was awkward, entertaining, interesting, and pleasant all at the same time.   Hermione had opted for transparency with her soon-to-be husbands, so she took the time, between munching on banana bread with walnuts and drinking coffee to tell them of the current happenings with Ronald, to which they all seemed mildly pleased, and Harry, to which they remained stoic and Hermione took that as a positive. Maybe they were trusting her to make the right decision and reserve judgement until they had time to observe life with Hermione, their wife and Harry Potter.

Once quiet, they all sat drinking their coffee and seemingly waiting. Hermione didn’t notice anything, she was lost in thought, but Severus knew that three of these gentle-wizards had something to say and he wished that they would just come out with it.

Draco cleared his throat and put down his tea. “Gra-“ this was not the way to start off a conversation with her, so he closed his eyes, mentally regrouped and started again. “Hermione.”

She smirked at him, and watched the others nod in approval to his correction. She put down her coffee. “Yes, Draco.”

The smile he gave her in return brightened her day that much more.

_Good start_ , he thought.

“We were talking and though, we offer our condolences on the weasel… uh – Ron Weasley, and are willing to assist you in the care of Potter, we would like to move forward with the marriage plans.” He waited and she nodded for him to continue.

He cleared his throat once more and took a sip of his tea wishing he had a small flask of firewhisky to add. He nearly asked Black for his, because he knew the man had one hidden on his person.

As if Sirius heard Draco’s mental yearnings, he nonchalantly patted his breast pocket and sipped his coffee to hide his knowing smile.

Antonin murmured something that sounded a lot like ‘good man’ then coughed to cover it up.

“Marriage plans?” Hermione prompted to get them back on track.

“Right!” Draco said. “Traditionally, the wizards plan the wedding and pay for it-“

Hermione opened her mouth to interrupt, but stayed her concern when Draco held a hand up for her to let him finish. “But Marcus here, did some research into Muggle traditions and it is the witch, er… woman who plans the wedding and pays for it.” Draco did not like to talk about money, he considered that type of conversation crass and unrefined, but Antonin had no such compunction and took up where Draco left off.

He looked at her, with piercing ocean blue eyes. “Vat is preference? You pay, ve pay? You plan, ve plan? Beeg? Smoll?”

“Well that was short and to the point, Dolohov,” Sirius teased. Antonin lifted a corner of his mouth in humored response to Sirius.

Hermione gifted him with a twinkle in her eyes and a small smile. “I appreciate your directness, Antonin.”

He bowed his head, thanking her.

Happy that she could focus on something that would be pleasant, whether the situation was forced or not, she felt a connection to these men already. She felt it so strong that she knew she had to be honest with them regarding her family’s plan to aid and abet the escape of other purebloods.

“Before we talk about marriage plans, I need to share something with you all.”

Severus knew she was going to tell them before she did. He felt uneasy with this as it gave them the option of marrying his daughter or having her help them escape. Severus was already used to the idea of having four sons in law and he didn’t like change.

OoO

Eileen listened patiently while having breakfast in bed, as was her habit, as her elf relayed to her the breakfast table conversation. She shook her head when Hermione deviated from the marriage plans to lay everything on the table, so to speak.

OoO

Hermione took a big breath after concluding her information share and waited for their reactions. It was anticlimactic.

“We know, Granger,” Draco told her, nodding towards Marcus.

“He had one of his … _things_ and once he and his mum worked it out, he told us.” They all nodded, even Sirius.

Hermione took it all in and Severus was pleased that there would be no change in the current plans.

“Sooo, what does that mean?”

Draco huffed and looked at her like it was obvious.

She bristled at his expression, and snapped, “Well?!”

“We are in for getting married and we are in for helping with your plans. Is that clear enough for your Gryffindor brain?”

She smiled. “Yes,” she chirped and flounced off to clean up.

“I like her,” Antonin announced. Sirius hummed in agreement.

“She’s got a hot little bum, too,” Draco added.

Once again, Sirius hummed in agreement.

Severus rolled his eyes and left the table in a huff.

 

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own nothing

 

Harry woke to bright lights and tingling finger tips. Swallowing thickly, he tried to sit up, but realized very quickly that he was relatively immobile. With that realization, he began to panic.

“Wait-wait-wait, Mr. Potter. It’s alright now. You’re in St. Mungos. Miss Granger found you just in time.” The faceless voice was soothing and calmed his nerves for a moment, but his heart was still pounding.

“Hermione?” he croaked and blinked his eyes. They were heavy and he wanted to close them, but the faceless voice cast a light Innervate and he was able to keep them open. “Water,” he whispered, taking a deep breath.

“Of course. Let me help you sit up.” Her hands were gentle, but strong, and he was sitting upright, and with a glass of water in his hand in mere moments. “Thanks,” he exhaled after a long gulp of the cool thirst quencher.

The Medi-witch sat watching him. His face began sleepy and confused then transformed slowly as he remembered what happened and why. In the end, the profound sadness reflected in his expression had her moving forward to softly take his hand in an effort to let him know that he was not alone.

His hand was cold and his fingers stiff. They didn’t squeeze her hand in return and he hadn’t looked at her. It was odd. “Mr. Potter?” He didn’t respond; only seemed to withdraw into his own mind. The Medi-witch tried once more. “Mr. Potter? You will be okay. However desperate your life seems at the moment, it will pass.”

He looked at her then. Piercing green eyes met kind hazel. She thought she saw a glimmer of hope and chanced a smile and a nod in confirmation of what she said.

Harry, seeming to believe the message she conveyed, took a shaky breath and squeezed her hand in acknowledgement. “Yes,” murmured, “I will be fine.”

Having come to a tenuous understanding, the Medi-witch let go of his hand just in time to greet the Healer as he walked in with a clip board, a Healing wand, and an infectious smile.

Recognition lit Harry’s features and he smiled. “Dean Thomas! How are you, mate?” His voice slightly shaky but genuine.

Dean laughed at seeing his house mate and fellow DA member. “Fancy meeting you here, Potter!” realizing the circumstance a little too late, Dean forced his smile to remain even as it morphed into something less joyful if not a bit pitiable. “It’s good to see you,” he added in a more subdued tone of voice.

Harry blushed, embarrassed by the situation. He lifted his hands, revealing the slight pink scarring on his wrists, but he didn’t say anything.

Healer Thomas stepped forward and gently ran his thumb over the straight lines then gave Harry’s hands a squeeze. “Those scars will fade and shrink a bit, but they will always be there.”

Harry nodded and looked anywhere but at Dean.

Dean tilted and moved his head to catch Harry’s eyes. When he couldn’t, he chuffed in humor. Harry’s attention was back to Dean; his eyes following Dean’s gaze; the scars. “You always were a bit obsessive about straight lines, Potter!” Their eyes met and Harry found himself chuckling at the morbid humor. He appreciated the levity.

Taking a deep breath, Harry straightened his shoulders. “So what next?”

Dean took a seat and scratched something on the clipboard, then faced his patient. “First, you speak to a counselor. Then you come back to me for a physical checkup and if your counselor gives the thumbs up, Hermione comes to pick you up, we agree to a plan that will allow you to get straight and you can go home with her.”

Harry didn’t look like he was happy about that course of action at all, so Dean quickly offered an option. “You don’t have to go home with her. You have other options. In fact, we can Owl her right now and tell her that she is no longer on your emergency call list.”

“No! I just… Does she know that I’m to go home with her? I mean-“

Just then, he was interrupted by a familiar voice. “Of course I know, Harry. It was my suggestion.”

Harry turned and immediately felt the weight of what he had done; the attempt, the betrayal – it was all too much. Tears streamed from his eyes, his face turned red and he was trying to speak in between the violent hiccups from crying. What Hermione, and Sirius and Severus behind her, heard was Harry’s heartfelt apology and self-loathing at what he had done to himself, and to them.

Severus felt anger at Potter’s display, but thought better of slapping the boy upside the head in an attempt to help him pull himself together. He knew his daughter would Avada him on the spot. So he resigned himself to watch quietly and wait.

He rolled his eyes when he noticed that Hermione was not going to let the Potter boy cry by himself. He watched as she sat herself on the side of the bed and drew him into her arms like a child. She cried with him, shushed him, and rocked him until he stopped. And after what seemed like hours, Hermione pushed Harry to arm’s length and smiled at him.

Severus was certain that he heard Black gagging behind him. If that were the case, Severus thought he couldn’t agree more.

Harry, on the other, hand could not express in words how grateful he was to see Hermione. She seemed to always know the right move at the right time and he was glad for not only her willingness to forgive, and to care for him, but her take charge-be-efficient manner.

Her eyes still glistened as she looked him up and down – everywhere but his wrists. “I love you, Harry. You’re family.”

Harry felt the onset of new tears, but squashed them down. Lifting his gaze to the two men standing by the door, he cringed. They would not be so forgiving. Harry was trying to read the expressions of each wizard, but couldn’t. He suddenly had second thoughts about going home with Hermione if Severus and Sirius were going to be there. He nearly laughed out loud at the irony of fearing for his life when he had just last night tried to end it himself.

OoO

Sirius was monumentally conflicted. Lying in bed was his godson. The last of the House of Potter and the last of his best friend, James. He’d loved the boy the day he’d been born. Then everything went to shite. Sirius took a drawn breath and watched his beautiful and kind wife. She would never turn those she loved away. Sirius could admit that something was wrong with Harry.

Sirius had seen too much betrayal. This one, though, had cut him deep. His own godson had condemned Sirius’ soul to rot and die in order to save his mate.

That thought gave Sirius pause. Wouldn’t he have done the same – opted to save the life of Remus or James? Even Peter would have been given more consideration than any of Sirius’ family. Harry hadn’t grown up with Sirius. He hadn’t even known he existed until his third year, and then it was all escaped criminal and how he betrayed Harry’s parents.

The Weasleys had been there from the time that Harry had been declared a wizard. Ron had been there through everything.

Those green eyes- _Lily’s eyes_ \- were watching him. Sirius took a deep, cleansing breath. “I forgive you, Harry. I love you, too.”

Harry’s entire being went from subdued to enlighten with those words. When the tears built up, Harry couldn’t hold them back and they spilled down his cheeks. “Thank you,” he said, nodding.

Sirius could not resist a warning though. “But do not cross me again, Potter.”

Their eyes met for a split second, enough to drive home the point, before Sirius’ wife hissed at him to behave. At that, Sirius smiled and hugged the young wizard.

With a nod to Harry and Hermione, Severus and Sirius left the two for home.

**_OoO_ **

O’Donnel mumbled to himself, as he ambled towards the foyer about having to do everything around here and that he should be awarded with Madam Prince’s finer firewhiskey, but instead was offered only mediocrity in the 70 year old single malt from the Highlands. He paused in thought for a moment to consider Penza’s suggestion that he speak to the young Miss Hermione his grievances in quality of payment. Penza said that she heard from Reynard that a Hogwarts elf told her stories about Miss Hermione wanting to _free_ the elves. O’Donnel couldn’t remember the name of the _freedom fighters_ , but he did sneer in general snobbery at the idea of being a community elf without a bonded wizarding family. Because this rumor originated with a community-based elf, O’Donnel gave almost no credibility. However, all Miss Hermione could say was no, should he request the 100 year old single malt.

Finally reaching the door, he opened it with a bow, knowing already who was waiting. “Greetings Madam Malfoy, Madam Flint, Young Masters, Lord Dolohov.” The elf stood aside while each person nodded and entered the home. “Madam Prince, Master Snape and Lord Black await your arrival in the drawing room for tea. This way, please.”

Narcissa and Ophelia had not previously visited the Estate, but many old pureblood dwellings were kept in much the same manner with only slightly differing cosmetic tastes in décor. This hallway was not much different than Narcissa’s own. The exception was the pale sage color on the top 80 percent of the walls and taupe on the bottom, and the portraits of the Prince ancestors.

The portraits watched as the group walk slowly down the hall; each face of the visitors vaguely familiar. Marcus had always found the watchful eyes unnerving and had developed a coping mechanism as a child. It came bubbling out every now and again as an adult. This was one of those now and agains.

As the group passed each portrait, Marcus read the name and dates out loud.

“Harmonia Prince – 1936-2004.”

Eileen had come to welcome them and heard the large man-boy recall the portrait. “My sister,” she explained and nodded to Harmonia. “She married a Fleamont.” Everyone heard the disdain in her tone, and Narcissa fought to not wrinkle her nose in response. The family character was brash and many of the males were boors.

“Cadmus Prince, 1984-1997 and Victoria Blishwick, 1902-2010.”

Eileen nodded and whispered, “My grandparents. Narcissa, I believe the Blacks are of relation as well.”

“Mmm yes. I remember seeing the family on the tapestry of Grimmauld Place. Misapinoa Black married Jimbo Blishwick.”

There were more portraits, with more names and more dates, but they had reached the drawing room and each person was ready to sit for tea.

It was in the brightness of the room that Eileen greeted Narcissa and Ophelia with a kiss to each cheek and a welcoming hug. In turn, Narcissa and Ophelia presented their sons, who bowed and took the hand of the Eileen and shook Severus’.

Antonin’s mother had passed away some years ago, so he introduced himself in the third person and presented Eileen with a small gift. He nodded to Severus and Sirius.

After the formalities they sat in comfort and got down to business.

When Hermione and Harry walked in three hours later, the group had just finished lunch and greeted each. Harry was hugged and each wished him well and offered their time, to which Hermione was both surprised and found it heart-warming.

Hermione was hugged and told that she had options to review for the wedding, and a network in place to help her rescue the pureblood scions from doom.

With that, Hermione’s husbands-to-be stayed and the women left, leaving Hermione confused and smiling with wonder.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
